


Save Him

by imalphanow



Category: Supernatural, Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Crossover, F/M, M/M, Superwolf, au version of teen wolf season 3 ep 1-12, pre supernatural 8x21, temporary mcd
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-23
Updated: 2014-03-07
Packaged: 2017-12-12 18:06:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 46,821
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/814446
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/imalphanow/pseuds/imalphanow
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The alpha pack come to ravage Beacon Hills and the Hale pack get caught in the crossfire. Derek is killed in battle and Stiles blames himself for Derek's death. He seeks help from the Winchesters, hoping there is a way he can right his wrong. The brothers prepare to leave the werewolf dead, but Castiel tells them he must be saved.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. He didn't deserve to die

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys! So, this is my first fanfiction for both Teen Wolf and Supernatural and my first attempt combining the two so I really hope you guys like it! Anyway before we begin I would really like to thank my AMAZING beta Nak (halewinchester) for her patience with me and her dedication to helping me make this story everything it is and is going to be. So please check her out on her own ao3 and read her AWESOME Teen Wolf/Supernatural story Roamers. Its one of my favorites out there and definitely worth a read! You can also check her out on tumblr at halewinchester.tumblr.com!
> 
> This story is going to consist of three pretty long chapters, kind of a trilogy, with different POV throughout the chapters. I tried to stay as canon as possible but obviously since I had to combine the two universes some alterations had to be made.
> 
> You can find me at tumblr at imalphanow.tumblr.com! <3
> 
> Enjoy and please review with any comments or concerns you have! I promise I will try to read and reply to as many as I can.

The plan was solid, no way it could fail. It had taken them months to figure it out, make it as bulletproof as it was now. They were all ready, been ready for a month, and it was finally game time. And then Derek decided to be a major _asshole_ and told Stiles he wasn’t coming, even though _Stiles_ had come up with 90% of the plan _himself_.

 

“Like hell I’m not going! Dammit, Derek! You can’t keep telling me what I can and can’t do! You’re not my alpha, I’m not one of you’re little betas!” Stiles hissed, pushing past Derek and grabbing his shotgun.

 

The alpha stood, looking slightly stunned and pissed at the same time, his fingers curling into fists at his side as he watched Stiles cram wolfs bane rounds into his pockets.

 

“Stiles,” Derek said, almost a growl.

 

Stiles was clearly ignoring him, crossing the room to gather last minute supplies and check the maps once last time.

  
“Stiles,” It was tighter this time, ground out through grit teeth.

 

Stiles cocked the shotgun, flicked on the safety.

  
“Stiles!” Derek’s tone of voice caught him by surprise and Stiles turned, looking a bit shocked. Derek sounded confused and angry and _wrecked_.

 

Stiles had never heard him sound like that, it was concerning.

 

“I am not telling you to stay. I am begging. Please. Please don’t go,” he said, quietly, eyes trained on the floor.

 

Stiles could see the whites of his knuckles, the tremor in them. “Derek, why do you not want me to go? Are you afraid I’ll mess things up? Get in the way or something?” the words came out a little more heated than he’d intended but he couldn’t help it.

 

The alpha pack has had them wound up like toys for months and now it was end time and they were all on edge and Derek picked now of all times to tell Stiles he was benching him. Stiles could handle himself perfectly fine; Derek should know that by now better than anyone.

 

Derek winces at his words and his jaw tightens, his shoulders stiff with tension. Stiles waits patiently while the he gathers his thoughts, watches as his fingers curl and uncurl then finally rake through his hair in frustration. Stiles opens his mouth but before he can even take a breath he is crowded against the wall and Derek is kissing him, hot, hard and greedy.

 

Derek lets all he is trying to convey flow out through the kiss. His need showing through the way he gently nips at Stiles’ bottom lip then sucks it into his mouth before pulling away again to kiss him properly. He shows his fear by the way he is gripping him, one hand painfully tight around his wrist while the other one cups the back of his neck, tilting his head so he can kiss him more freely, keeping him close. His lips are bruised and red when Derek pulls away, only for a second, to admire him, then moves back in to capture them again.

 

Stiles is truthfully blown away, stunned so much he can’t even begin to kiss back for a full two seconds before he is gripping Derek’s jacket and _whining_ as Derek licks into his mouth. Derek grabs his hands and pins them to the wall, never breaking the kiss, and Stile practically melts into his shoes. His brain is in overdrive, drowning in everything that is Derek. The smell of his leather jacket and forest and heavy spice, his calloused hands gripping his own, his stubble scraping against his skin as he nips at Stiles’ jawline and sucks on his neck.

 

Stiles is gasping for air like a fish out of water, his heart pounding so hard he thinks it’s going to explode, and then he hears a click and everything stills. Derek buries his face in Stiles’ neck, kissing there once before pulling away and meeting his eyes, his achingly beautiful amber eyes, and frowns. Not a disappointed frown or a mad one, a sad, heartbreaking one that strikes Stiles in his very core. He looks down to see Derek has handcuffed him to radiator bolted to the wall.

 

Betrayal and hurt flashes through Stiles so hard he flinches away from Derek, his eyes stinging.

 

Derek cups his cheek and strokes it with his thumb, still with that sad frown on his face. “Now you know why I can’t let you go. This way I know you will be safe and out of danger. Please forgive me,” Derek whispers, his voice rough and cracking.

 

He leans forward and kisses Stiles on the forehead, squeezing his eyes shut while he swallows the lump in his throat then pulls away, meeting Stiles’ eyes one last time. Stiles stares helplessly into them and doesn’t know what to say. Derek is gone before Stiles can even speak.

 

After the initial shock wears off Stiles screams. He screams and yells and begs for Derek to come back, to let him help, but he is met with only silence. There is no one around for miles and Stiles knows he stuck here. But dammit, it was definitely not going to stop him from trying. He was a Sheriff’s kid. He could weasel his way out of a pair of handcuffs.

 

With his free hand he felt around on the floor for anything sharp that could help. His finger ran across something jagged and he stopped, inspecting it further. It looked like one of Lydia’s bobby pins. Bless that girl. Stiles would remind himself to thank her later. He quickly took the bobby pin and set the work on the lock, eyebrows furrowed in concentration, wiggling and jiggling until his fingers ached.

 

It had been thirty minutes and still no luck. Stiles cursed loudly and crammed the pin on their for another try. After five more minutes he heard a click and threw his fist into the air. _Yes! Score for Stilinski_. He ripped off he handcuffs and ran out the front door, shotgun in hand and a grin on his face. That would teach Derek Hale to underestimate him again. Now he had to save the idiot’s ass yet again.

 

-§-

 

He reached the planned attack point within twenty minutes out of breath and wheezing, shotgun cocked and ready to fire at a moments notice. He stood still for a moment, listening, until growls and snarls reached his ears. He took off in the direction they were coming from, crushed bushes and snapped tree branches leading him to the sight. It was a mess.

 

There was blood everywhere from god knows whom, wolf against wolf and the hunters as well. Stiles recognized Allison beside her father, letting arrows fly as easy as if she were just breathing. Chris was shooting everything that came close; reloading his pistol so fast Stiles could hardly see his fingers moving. He could see Lydia hidden in the bushes, quickly preparing the Molotov cocktails for the hunters to start chucking. Isaac was in front of her, wrestling with Ethan who was in full wolf form. In fact all the alphas were, Stiles counted six in total. He knew one was Derek, the pure black wolf fighting against a dusty brown one. That one had to be Deucalion.

 

They were both bleeding; the wounds sluggishly knitting themselves back together as they ripped new ones. It was awful and the overwhelming smell made Stiles want to gag. Ennis was backing Deucalion up whenever Derek got the upper hand, swooping in to deliver quick, painful blows that would keep Derek at bay until they healed. Stiles decided that Ennis was his first target. Closest to him was Boyd who was fighting with Kali, the female with the claws on her feet. Boyd looked pretty beaten but no way was he giving up. Not after what they did to Erica. Stiles heart still clenched painfully at the thought of it. Scott was across the way, fighting with the other alpha twin, Aiden. He quietly edged around them, keeping close to the tree line so he wouldn’t be noticed, finally coming up behind Ennis.

 

He blew a hole the size of a dinner plate through the alpha’s chest.

 

That got Deucalion’s attention right away. Ennis fell to the ground with a howl of pain that was swallowed by a gurgle and a whine, his body twitching in a pool of his own blood. It wouldn’t kill him but he was definitely out for the rest of the fight. Deucalion snarled, baring his teeth, stained with _Derek’s_ blood, and Stiles cocked his gun again.

 

He fired.

 

The alpha darted to the side and roared, narrowly dodging the round and a tree splintered behind him. Derek was on the ground, panting, his flanks and belly torn to shreds, the wounds healing achingly slow. Stiles fired again, nicking Deucalion’s shoulder.

 

That really pissed him off.

 

“Oh shit,” Stiles cursed, began to rethink some of his life choices as he slipped on the bloodied forest floor.

 

His ass met dirt as he tried to keep any distance between him and Deucalion. The alpha was _massive_ ; at least the size of a grizzly bear, big enough for Stiles to ride, and Stiles was seriously regretting the part of his brain that told him this was a good idea.

 

Stiles tried to load more rounds with shaking fingers, but only dropped then in his haste. He swore Deucalion laughed, an amused chuff as he watched Stiles squirm like prey. He finally got a round loaded and aimed, barrels pointed straight at the alpha’s head. Deucalion paused momentarily, his red eyes narrowing, a growl rumbling deep within his chest. He was gauging his chances, whether Stiles would miss or not.

 

“That’s right, bitch. This sucker is aimed right for you’re pretty head and filled with so much wolfs bane you’ll be dead before you even hit the ground,” Stiles spit, finger hovering over the trigger.

 

Derek was staring at him from behind Deucalion, wolf eyes wide with shock, a low whine in his throat. His wounds were nearly healed; Stiles just needed to distract Deucalion a bit longer, then Derek could finally end it. Or maybe he should just take him out himself? End this once and for all. Stiles licked his lips, shifting the gun higher up on his shoulder.

 

“And I won’t miss this time. I’m a Sheriff’s kid; I was shooting things before I even owned a razor. So, ass wipe, care to take a chance?” he raised an eyebrow, finger finally curling around the trigger.

 

Deucalion didn’t move, didn’t even blink. Stiles squeezed lightly on the trigger, a warning, and the alpha lunged. Stiles eyes snapped shut and he fired.

 

There was a scream of pain, more human than wolf, and then there was silence.

 

Stiles opened his eyes, but instead of a dead Deucalion, there was a very live one.

 

With Derek’s heart between his teeth.

 

It was like the after shock of an explosion. Stiles ears were ringing and he was stunned, unable to move or speak, everything was white noise. Deucalion was there one second then the next his head was thrown back in a howl and he was gone, the pack along with him. It was like they had never been there. All that remained were the stunned Hale pack, looking around in shock and confusion. It was over.

 

And it was all Stiles’ fault.

 

Stiles couldn’t remember how to breathe, he was pretty sure it had to do with sucking air in through your mouth but for some reason his mouth wouldn’t open, his skin felt to tight. All he could think about was Derek’s dead body lying not five feet from him.

 

“No, no, no, no!” Stiles croaked, crawling through the bloody leaves and wet earth, collapsing next to Derek’s head.

 

He was laying on his back, eyes staring at nothing, skin torn and bruised in a million places. Stiles reached out tentatively, lightly touching his face, leaving a blood smear on his cheek. He was still warm, still felt so much like Derek. But he wasn’t.

 

His death caused him to revert back to human form and Stiles could see the true damage Deucalion had caused. A giant gaping hole was ripped in Derek’s chest, broken tips of ribs and a gap where Derek’s heart used to be. Stiles really couldn’t breathe now. He clutched Derek’s shoulders, shook him, screaming his name, tears running down his face.

 

“Derek! Derek, you can’t be dead, you asshole! I’m so sorry; I should have listened to you! Please don’t be dead, oh god. Please,” Stiles begged, looking straight into Derek’s clouded green eyes.

 

Nothing.

 

Silence.

 

This was his fault. Derek was _dead_ because of him. His pack was without an alpha. He should have just listened, should have just sucked it up and stayed. But Stiles always did more bad than good didn’t he? Always was the hyperactive little bastard who screwed everything up.

 

He dropped his head, resting it on Derek’s, and gave up. There was no bringing Derek back from this; no amount of magic or werewolf healing was going to fix this.

 

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, not that it mattered but it needed to be said. Because he meant it, because he needed to believe Derek knew it, because he needed to say something to block out the aching presence of Derek’s silence.

 

-§-

 

**Six Months Later**

 

They buried Derek beneath a big oak tree near the house under a spiral of wolfs bane, just like he’d done for Laura _. A promise_ Stiles remembered, a promise for revenge. The sad thing was that no one had noticed his absence but them. The world kept turning and life went on even though he was gone. The pack kept together, working through whatever grief they had. They had still been shaky bond wise, Derek had just begun to pick up the pieces of his mistakes, but they’d grown closer.

 

They’d been a pack.

 

Isaac was pretty wrecked. Him and Derek had been close since Derek took him in, kept him off the streets, in school, fed and clothed. Boyd hurt, he mourned over Derek, but his pain over Derek was mixed with his pain over Erica. He’d lost a lot recently. Scott was generally sad for the loss of Derek’s life. His grief was more for the affect it had on others and respect. The loss was nowhere near as personal as it was for the others. It didn't matter that Derek always thought of Scott as a brother. Scott never saw that. He and Derek always fought more than they agreed. Scott would miss him, more than he realized now and probably more than he'd ever admit, but he would miss him.

 

It was generally shocking when Allison broke down and sobbed for two hours. Everyone assumed she’d miss him the least, after what happened with her mother, but she did grieve. She had forgiven Derek already, had told him so one night after a pack bonding. Just a subtle way of showing it, a quick hug on her way out the door. But they understood each other; they were a lot alike if you looked close enough. They were both raised strongly in the beliefs of their family. They were each strong fighters, true leaders, though they were still learning, and good in their cores, even if they made mistakes. Allison grieved and everyone began to understand.

 

Lydia tackled the whole ordeal as she did with everything like this, just tucked it away in that spot in her mind where she could safely lock things away and deal with them, slowly, over time, much like she’d done when Jackson took off. She had cried, everyone cried at funerals, but it didn’t really follow her home like it did with everyone else. She was good at controlling her emotions like that, sometimes a little too good.

 

Peter took off the day after it happened, they hadn’t heard from him since then. Scott said sometimes he would feel him, a small presence in the bottom of his gut, like he was close but keeping his distance. Stiles understood, Peter needed time and the pack was okay with that. Besides, he would be back, he always was.

 

Danny was just in shock; he didn’t know Derek well enough to grieve. He was still getting over the fact that Ethan was a werewolf and had only been dating him to get to the pack. Danny didn’t know how to be sad yet.

 

They didn’t tell anyone about Derek, it would have been too hard to explain. Melissa, and only because she was the one who sowed Derek back up before they buried him, and Stiles’ dad because he was freaking out wondering why his son was crying and screaming into his pillow at all hours of the night.

 

All that was left of Derek was a leather jacket and a car, a burnt out husk of a house, a wooden cross beneath a tree. That was it, no pictures or fond memories they could all laugh about over drinks. Just an ugly patch of dirt, stark against the colors of the forest, and Stiles hated it. Hated that Derek was just gone, wiped off the face of the earth as easy as a flick of the wrist.

 

Stiles hated the guilt that weighed on him, eating him up at all hours of the night and day. It consumed him and everything he did, hovered over him like a dark cloud that refused to let the sun shine. He felt he could never catch a breath, he was still gasping for air, drowning, and there was no way to reach the surface.

 

He hated that it was his fault.

 

Stiles relived that night almost anytime he closed his eyes. It haunted him, and sometimes he thought Derek haunted him too. He would wake up feeling this _presence_ over him, staring at him, even though there was nothing there. He could feel the ghost of Derek’s lips against his if he concentrated hard enough. Sometimes, things would be in different places then he left them, or maybe he was just going crazy. Sometimes he swore he could hear Derek’s growl; see a flash of red eyes at his window. It was the strongest when he was at the Hale house. Derek’s presence seemed to burn there, singeing Stiles’ skin when he entered, howling to him.

 

People called all these things denial. The minds way of blocking out something painful it wasn’t ready to face. Stiles could believe it but he’d been involved in so much supernatural shit that if there was the slightest chance Derek was still here than Stiles wasn’t going to just ignore it.

 

So that was how he wound up on one of his many supernatural chat sites talking to a girl who he was pretty sure was a witch. She talked about séances and stuff like that but those things gave Stiles a bad feeling in his gut, he knew shouldn’t mess with that stuff. But she also mentioned people called the Winchesters, brothers who were hunters apparently. They specialized in this kind of stuff, could contact a ghost for him, or get rid of it, whatever he wanted. She provided the only number she knew and Stiles thanked her, logged off.

 

He sat on his bed with his cell phone ready. Thirty minutes passed and all he did was stare at the screen. He was afraid to call. What if it really was Derek? What if he blamed Stiles for what happened? Was trying to get back at him from somewhere beyond? Stiles didn’t think he could handle it. Even though Derek should blame him. It was his fault he was dead.

 

Another possibility was that it wasn’t Derek and Stiles was just going insane. That thought scared him almost as much as the first. He sighed in frustration, raked his fingers through his hair. He’d let it grow out since Derek died, too caught up in his grief to remember to trim it.

 

Yet another danger was bringing strange hunters into a town full of werewolves. That would be a really dumb move. But something was compelling him to take the leap.

So he dialed.

 

“Hello?” a voice answered after the fourth ring; it sounded surprised.

 

“Uh, hello? Is this the Winchesters?” Stiles asked, holding his breath.

 

He heard the person shift the phone a bit then take a breath. “Uh, yeah. This is Sam Winchester. Can I help you?” Sam replied, his voice dropping a bit, turning serious.

 

“I heard that you and your brother were in the uh…supernatural business?” Again Stiles held his breath.

 

Sam paused for a moment and Stiles heard the phone shift again, another low voice murmured in the background. “Yes, we are. Do you need our help with something?” Sam asked.

 

Stiles let out his breath, felt his chest loosen a bit. “Uh, yes. I um have a ghost problem,” he said.

 

Sam didn’t reply for a moment, the second voice said something else and Sam replied, too low for Stiles to hear, then gets back on the phone.

 

“Can you give me an idea of what’s been happening? Has anyone been injured?” he asked.

 

Stiles swallowed. He knew he had to lie, there’s no way they would come out here just because he wants to _see if his dead boyfriend’s spirit is still hanging around_. No, that wouldn’t work. So Stiles squeezed his eyes shut and lied through his teeth.

 

“Yes, killed actually. My-my boyfriend was killed,” he said and his stomach turned.

 

He knew this was ridiculous; he should just apologize and hang up. But if Derek was still here then Stiles had to talk to him, tell him how sorry he was, and put him to rest _himself_.

 

“I’m sorry for your loss,” Sam began, going silent for a moment. “We are going to help you, we need your name and your address,” Sam said finally, bringing Stiles out of his thoughts.

 

“Oh sure, uh my name is Stiles Stilinski. I live in Beacon Hills, California. Is it okay if I text a meeting spot to this number?” he asked.

 

“Sure, we should be there by tomorrow afternoon. See you then, Stiles.” Then he hung up.

 

Stiles threw his cell phone down on the bed and buried his face in his hands. This was so going to come back and bite him in the ass.

 

-§-

 

Sam hung up the phone, placed it on the table, and put his hands on his hips. Something felt wrong about that phone call, something was definitely off. He ran a hand through his hair, sighed. Dean raised an eyebrow from across the table, paused mid chew, a half eaten burger clutched in his hands.

 

“You okay, Sammy?” he asked.

 

Sam shrugged, slumped back down into his chair and picked at his salad. It was probably nothing.

 

“I think that kid was lying to me,” Sam confessed, taking a small bite of his salad.

 

Dean swallowed and leaned back in his chair, wiped off his fingers. “Okay. So we don't go.”

 

“He needs help, Dean.”

 

Dean huffed, dropping the rest of his burger. “Well, then we’ll just be careful.” he said, rising to gather the dishes.

 

Sam passed over his barely eaten salad without comment and went to gather the stuff they needed.

 

“You want to take off tomorrow and hoof it or leave now and spend the night halfway?” Dean asked from he kitchen.

 

Sam shoved three more containers of salt into his bag along with the gasoline and chucked in a lighter. “Let’s leave now. Probably best if we don’t go into this dead on our feet,” he replied, adding the salt rounds and the shotguns.

 

Dean appeared a moment later, back slung over his shoulder. “I’ll be in the car. Hurry up, bitch,” he said with a grin as he passed, snagging the bag Sam had just prepared on the way.

 

“Jerk.” Sam huffed fondly and quickly threw a few changes of clothes into his duffle.

 

Sam walked outside, shutting the door behind him. The Men of Letters previous hideaway had kind of become the Winchester basecamp; he refused to call it the _Batcave_ like Dean often did. It was nice and the closest thing to home they’d had since pretty much ever. Dean couldn’t be more of a girl about having his own room, not that Sam had any complaints.

 

Dean was waiting in the car when Sam climbed the steps and rounded to the passenger side of the impala. _The Who_ was blaring over the radio and Dean was enthusiastically drumming out the solos on the steering wheel, grinning while his head bobbed back and forth. Sam smiled and slid into the passenger’s seat, watching his head. He closed the door and Dean started the car wordlessly, shifting gears and pulling onto the dirt road that led to the highway. Sam leaned back in his seat; his long legs splayed out in front him with his knees touching the dashboard, and tapped his fingers on his thigh, matching the beat of the music.

 

Dean looked over at Sam; his face was hard to read. It was mixture between affection and worry. His mouth was pulled into that tight, little smile he got when something was on his mind but he didn’t want Sam to worry about it. It was that fake smile Dean forced himself to wear because he had to.

 

Sam hated that smile.

 

“Why don’t you get some sleep? I’ll wake you up when we get to the motel,” Dean suggested a moment later, returning his eyes to the road, his arm hung lazily over the wheel as he lounged back in his seat.

 

_Oh._ Sam understood what was on his mind now. With a heavy sigh Sam looked at his brother, a frown ghosting over his face. “Dean, you don’t have to baby me. I feel fine.” he replied, a bit snappish. His brother had been obsessed with his wellbeing lately, ever since he took on the trials.

 

Sam knew he wasn’t fine per say but he wasn’t dying at this moment so he didn’t see any reason for Dean to be worrying over him. It made Sam feel guilty, giving Dean another thing to feel guilty about, but he had to do these trials.

 

After all the things he’d done in his life, the bad in particular, closing the gates of hell could be his repayment for the wrong deeds he’d done. It could be his redemption and he wanted that more than anything. Sometimes, when he thought about what he’d done in the past (freeing Lucifer, killing all those people while he was soulless, the list goes on), he feels this thing in his chest, like a twisting. It feels like someone had stabbed him and he was reliving it all over again. It was the guilt, and sometimes it was so much he could hardly breathe.

 

Dean understood what it was like to have guilt; you can’t walk away from spending ten years of torturing souls in hell with a clean slate. But Dean was better than Sam at just about everything. Sam knew this. He was a better hunter, a better person, a better soul, and he tried so much harder. Dean would give up his heart if anyone asked for it without a second thought, even though he often got it broken by people letting him down this way and that. Dean had always been better and Sam didn’t resent him for it; he just hated how many times he’d let his brother down. So, Sam was determined to get better. He would have his redemption and he would prove to his brother that he was sorry and he was there, forever.

 

Sam ended up drifting off anyway, the familiar hum of the impala and the comforting smell of leather lulling him into a heavy sleep. Dean was suddenly gently nudging his shoulder, telling him they were at the motel and checked in. Sam yawned and rubbed his eyes, before climbing out of the car and stretching. With a satisfied grunt, he grabbed his bag from the back of the car and followed Dean into the room. It was exactly the same as every other motel they had ever stayed in, two beds and a small kitchen, crappy bathroom through a small doorway. It was western themed, cowboy wallpaper and boot shaped lamps with cowboy hat shades. Sam sighed and plopped down onto the bed, snuggled against the pillow and closed his eyes.

 

“See you in the morning, Sammy.” Dean yawned from his bed, arm thrown across his face, shirt discarded on the floor along with his jeans.

 

 “Night, Dean,” Sam mumbled, before slipping off.

 

-§-

 

They both rose bright and early like they always did, packed their bags and got on the road again after a cup of bad coffee and stale doughnuts from a gas station next door. Sam drove this time, letting Dean relax a bit.

 

They reached Beacon Hills right on time, rolled into the small town a little after noon. Dean gave him directions to the meeting spot and Sam pulled up to an old diner. He parked the impala in front and got out, pocketing the keys. Dean shrugged off his leather jacket, slung it over his arm, feeling the Californian summer heat.

 

Sam led the way into the diner, eyes scanning the place as they passed multiple booths. It was quaint diner with checkerboard tiles floors and red pleather booths, cracked and faded from years of use. Chrome tables lined the walls and a waitress with raven hair and swaying hips floated from one table to the other, a bored expression seemingly plastered on her face. They neared a table at the back and a lanky teenager with slightly shaggy hair was sitting there, another larger teenager beside him. Sam and Dean slid into the chairs across from them and the teenagers stiffened, looking them over from where they sat.

 

“Are you Stiles?” Sam asked the lanky one, raising a questioning eyebrow.

 

Stiles nodded, swallowing hard and squirming a bit in his seat. “Yeah, I’m Stiles. This is Boyd,” he said, nodding to the larger teenager beside him.

 

Sam looked him over before returning his gaze to Stiles; Dean inspected him a bit longer with a wary stare. “Are you okay talking about this in front of him?” Sam asked.

 

Stiles nodded and crossed his arms, leaning back into his chair. “Yeah, he knows everything.” Stiles said, finally meeting Sam’s eyes.

 

Sam was still unsure whether he could trust this kid, something about this story seemed off. But he would hear what he had to say first before he made his final decision.

 

“So, when did this ghost problem start?” Dean asked, taking the lead in the conversation.

 

The kid swallowed hard, shifted in his seat again, laced and unlaced his fingers. He was radiating nerves; Sam could practically smell it on him. Finally, after looking sideways at Boyd, he faced Sam and Dean and took a breath.

 

“Uh, actually I don’t really have a ghost problem per say,” he began.

 

Sam frowned and Dean sighed heavily, rubbing his eyes.

 

“I am actually trying to figure out if it even is a ghost,” Stiles finished quietly.

 

“You told us your house was haunted, you said this ghost killed your boyfriend. Was that all a lie just to get us here?” Sam said, a bit snappish. He knew that kid was lying the second he hung up the phone.

 

They never should have come.

 

Stiles visibly winced at Sam’s words, his whole body tensing. Boyd shifted in his chair, moving closer to Stiles where their shoulders were touching, Stiles sagged a bit but his mouth was twisted into a grimace.

 

“Not all of it was a lie. My boyfriend was killed, just not by a ghost. I think the ghost is my boyfriend,” Stiles replied, his voice breaking.

 

Sam looked at Dean but he just shrugged, which was Dean talk for _you can handle this one._ Sam sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose before looking at Stiles again.

 

“So what exactly do you want from us?” he asked.

 

Stiles straightened up in his seat, meeting Sam’s gaze unblinkingly for the first time during their whole conversation.

 

“I want to know if my boyfriend is still ‘here’. I need to know if his soul has moved on or not. I need to talk to him,” he replied evenly, without stutter or pause.

 

Dean groaned from his seat. “Contacting the dead never ends well,” he growled, mostly talking to Sam.

 

Sam couldn’t agree more but the kid sounded desperate. He knew the feeling, wondering if your loved one was still hanging on some how. He felt that way for a long time after Jessica died. Still felt that way sometimes, swore he could smell her perfume or hear her laugh in the other room. What Stiles needed was closure.

 

“Okay, well first off we need to know how your boyfriend died and if you cremated him or not,” Sam said finally.

 

Stiles’ eyes widened. “You’re really going to help me?” he asked.

 

Sam nodded but Dean wasn’t paying attention. He was waving his hand at the surly waitress, trying to get a piece of pie.

 

Stiles blew out a breath, his whole body going slack with relief. “Thank you, I really mean it, thanks,” he began, his eyes a bit watery. “So we’ll lead you to the house, just follow the blue jeep,” he finished and hopped up from his seat, buzzing with an energy that wasn’t there when the brothers walked through the door.

 

Boyd rose and fell in line behind Stiles, handing the kid his keys.

 

Sam stood up and nudged Dean. His brother sighed heavily and stood up as well, his pie postponed.

 

“Okay, well uh, see you guys there,” Stiles said then turned and walked out the door, Boyd in tow.

 

The brothers shared a looked, silently preparing for what was to come, then followed behind. They climbed into the impala at the same time Stile started his jeep and both cars pulled out of the lot and down the road.

 

-§-

 

Stiles was thrumming his fingers against the steering wheel the whole way the Hale house. He was practically bouncing in his seat with nervous energy, chewing on his already ragged bottom lip and bobbing his head to whatever music was playing lowly on the stereo. Boyd cast glances his way every few seconds, his emotions ranging from concerned to amused, then would look out the window again, silent. He’s been quieter then normal, after Erica was killed. Stiles still missed her; it was like a hot iron to the gut every time she crossed his mind. She had been his Catwomen.

 

There was no replacing her.

 

Everyone was still kind of a mess, actually. They were still trying to find their places within the pack, the hierarchy was a mess since Derek never picked a second. Stiles always assumed it was Isaac but when he asked, Isaac simply snorted and shook his head; Derek had never mentioned anything to him. Of course Peter was still AWOL. So he was out, but no one really wanted him as the alpha anyway; not after what happened last time.

 

Stiles released his worried lip from between his teeth and flicked on his blinkers, turning down the familiar Hale drive. His heart ached like it always did when he came here. He always had a little hope of seeing Derek, leaning against the railing of the burnt porch with a sour expression on his face. He could always hear Stiles’ car long before he pulled up in front of the house.

 

Stiles took a deep breath and parked the jeep in his usual spot, turned the key in the ignition and pulled it out, pocketing it before he jumped out. The Winchesters were crawling out of their car, they rounded the back and drew a duffle bag from the trunk, shut the lid.

 

“Where are we?” Dean asked, eyeing the burnt shell of the Hale house warily.

 

Stiles looked to the house for a brief moment then back at the brothers. “The Hale house. About eleven years ago the house burned down with Derek’s family trapped inside. The only survivors were Derek, his sister, Laura, and his uncle, Peter,” Stiles replied quietly. He left out the fact that Derek and his family were werewolves and the killer had been a hunter, no reason to bring that up right now.

 

Dean’s eyes widened a bit and he whistled, shaking his head. “Wow, that…wow,” Is all he says.

 

Sam winced and crossed his arms. “Our mother died in a fire, a demon did it,” he said quietly.

 

Stiles swallowed hard and looked at the ground, he knew what it was like to lose a mom. After a second of silence the group pulled themselves back together and refocused.

 

“Uh, follow me,” Stiles whispered, leading the brothers to the house.

 

It was exactly the same as Derek had left it, broken furniture in random places, maps still pinned to the wall in the living room, the mattress on the floor in the small bedroom. Stiles tensed, feeling that hot tight feeling take over him again, like fire ants on his skin. Dean pulled out a small walkie-talkie looking thing and began waving it around, eyes trained on the blinking lights on the top. Sam did the same, sweeping the other side of the room with a small frown on his face.

 

They worked methodically throughout the house, sweeping each room and crack, looking for any signs. Stiles followed, chewing on his thumbnail or wringing his hands while he watched, trying to ignore the to tight feeling in his chest. He still hated coming here, everything screamed _Derek_ and it was like a knife to the heart. He couldn’t even bring himself to visit his grave, since the funeral.

 

Sam finally sighed and stopped, once again in the living room where they started. “You getting anything?” he asked, glancing over his shoulder at his brother.

 

Dean shook his head as he walked into the room, gadget lowered to his side. “Nope, not a blip,” he replied, turning to inspect the maps on the wall.

 

Sam’s frown deepened.

 

Dean’s fingers traced from one red dot to another, pausing for a moment over the crossed out ones before moving on. “What are these?” he asked, looking to Stiles.

 

“Uh I don’t really know, I didn’t really mess with his stuff,” Stiles replied, shrugging.

 

Boyd snorted loud enough that both the brothers turned around, wearing mirrored expressions of confusion. Boyd just shrugged it off, went to sit on a somewhat blackened table in the corner. Stiles resisted the urge to smack his forehead.

 

They were actually previous hiding spots, or suspected ones, of the alpha pack. Lots of them were fakes, the alpha having just thrown their scent around to confuse them long enough for them to find another hidey hole. They never did find their actual hide out.

 

“Okay… we aren’t picking up anything. Usually the EMF’s would be going off if there were any ghost activity here. All I am getting is a few spikes from the land lines down the road.” Sam said, lifting up the gadget for Stiles to inspect.

 

The corner of Stiles’ mouth turned down, his eyes growing a little darker. “I was afraid this would happen. Guess I am just going crazy,” he replied, half choked.

 

Sam put a hand on his shoulder. Stiles may have lied to get them here but his pain was real, he guessed Sam understood that. Stiles stayed quiet for a few more moments before taking a deep breath and collecting himself.

 

“Well, let me buy you guys dinner or something before you head back. I’m really sorry about this, I appreciate you coming out,” he said, pulling his jacket a little tighter around himself.

 

Sam nodded, pocketing his EMF. “No problem, it was nice to get out anyway. We don’t come to California very often.”

 

Stiles shrugged and they walked out the door, Boyd locking it behind them. He cast one glance out into the yard, the cross still stood beneath the tree, a bit weathered but still there. The grave was nearly covered with ivy now, the forest reclaiming its land and Derek’s body along with it. Stiles felt the familiar heaviness of guilt in his gut and he looked away.

 

They all gathered around their cars and stood in silence for as moment, looking at the Hale house.

 

“Well, uh, here is some money for dinner and gas. Again, I’m really sorry.” Stiles said, breaking the silence. He walked up to the brothers and put the cash in Sam’s hand, giving them a sad smile.

 

Sam nodded in thanks, pocketed the cash. He opened his mouth to say something when suddenly a growl rippled through the air and Stiles froze, going pale. The brothers eyes whipped to Boyd, his eyes were burning gold and fangs peeked out of his mouth. Not a second later a howl sounded, far away, somewhere in the forest.

 

“What the hell!” Dean cursed, pulling out his gun and aiming it at Boyd. Sam did the same, finger hovering over the trigger. Boyd was whining, eyes glued to the trees, not even paying attention to the armed hunters.

 

“Wait! Stop! It's okay!” Stiles yelled, throwing himself in front of the guns. His arms were raised, trying to shield Boyd best he could.

 

“What do you mean it's okay? He’s a freaking monster!” Dean snarled, gesturing to Boyd with his gun, his body tense.

 

“I know it looks bad but I can explain, just not now! Please, just trust me when I say that you are totally safe,” Stiles replied, taking a slow step forward.

 

“Trust you? You lied to us to get us out here and then didn’t happen to mention your buddy there was a freaking... whatever he is!” Dean yelled, taking an intimidating step forward.

 

Stiles looked back for a second, Boyd’s attention having switched the fight and a growl rumbled in his chest. Claws had sprout from his fingertips.

 

“Boyd, just go, see what’s wrong. I’ll find you in a little bit,” Stiles said calmly, fixing his gaze with the werewolf.

 

Boyd whined but nodded, taking off into the trees on all fours. Stiles let out a small breath of relief, quickly cut off when Dean pressed his gun against his chest.

 

“What the hell is he?” Dean hissed, cocking his gun for emphasis.

 

Stiles swallowed hard, eyes wide and pupils blown with fear. “He’s a werewolf, but he is harmless I promise. He would never hurt you unless he thought you were a threat to me,” he explained, eyes fixing on the gun.

 

Sam and Dean shared a confused look. “That was no werewolf, they don’t look like that. And they sure as hell don’t protect humans.” Sam said slowly, looking to Stiles again.

 

“There are different breeds, three as far as I can tell from my research. I’ve read up on them, the breed you are probably familiar with is the ones descended from darker magic, more wolf than man. They were created centuries ago as killing machines during the dark ages. The ones you hunt, they eat the hearts of their victims am I right? Silver kills them? Well its different with these werewolves,”

 

“The type of werewolf Boyd is comes from a more human oriented bloodline, more of the shape shifting aspect than the actual wolf blood. They originate from Native American magic, made as warriors to protect their tribes with the ferocity and loyalty from the wolf that they admired so much. Their wolf connection comes from a spiritual place within their souls. They are able to control themselves better and reign in their bloodlust with the help of an anchor, something that keeps them human.” Stiles explained quickly.

 

Dean lowered his gun.

 

“So you are saying that Chocolate Thunder over there doesn’t go all hairy every month and eat peoples hearts?” Dean asked, raising an eyebrow.

 

Stiles nodded, clearly relieved the gun was no longer pointed at him. “Yes, well technically he does get hairy just not everywhere and he _wants_ to eat people he just is better at controlling himself, especially if he’s found his anchor,” he replied.

 

Dean rubbed a hand down his face and leaned against the impala, his mind a little blown. Sam was just staring with his mouth slightly open, obviously still processing things.

 

“Derek was one as well, but he was an alpha,” Stiles added more quietly.

 

“Alpha? You mean like the first of his kind?” Sam asked.

  
Stiles shook his head. “No, I mean like the leader of the pack. Unlike Boyd, who is a beta, Derek could achieve full wolf form. It comes with the power of the alpha, and the more wolves in his pack the stronger he is. Or was…” His throat clicked when he swallowed.

 

“I need a drink,” Dean announced, turning around to dig in the impala. Sam just leaned against the hood, his arms crossed.

 

“Are there more of them? More like him?” he asked.

 

Stiles’ eyes narrowed and he took a step back. “Why do you want to know? Are you planning on killing them?” he asked, a bit of venom in his tone.

 

“Are you human?” Sam asked, changing the subject.

  
Stiles nodded, seeming to relax a little. “Through and through. The bite was offered to me but I turned it down. I’m happy the way I am,”

 

Dean reappeared with a flask in hand, already screwing off the top. “Okay, so Boyd is a werewolf and you are not and there are possibly more werewolves running around Beacon Hills and we didn’t even know about it?” he said, a little exasperated.

 

“We try to keep things out of the papers, we have enough hunters to worry about already,” Stiles replied. “So can I trust that you are not going to shoot me and Boyd or are we going to have an issue?”

 

The brothers exchanged glances. “Can we meet them? The pack?” Sam asked.

 

Truth be told, he was fascinated. This would be a great opportunity to learn about them, write down some notes for his father’s journal and the Men of Letters library. Dean, Sam wasn’t so sure. His brother probably wouldn’t shoot them, probably.

 

Stiles frowned. “I am not sure that’s such a good-“ A howl ripped through the air, long and filled with pain. Stiles’ eyes widened and he grabbed his keys from his pocket, running for his jeep. “Something is wrong, follow or don’t I don’t care but if you start shooting anyone I swear to god I will be cracking some skulls!” he yelled as he started the car.

 

The brothers had just started the impala when Stiles was pulling away, racing down the driveway towards the main road.

 

“Well Sammy, feel like running with the wolves?” Dean asked.

 

Sam snorted and they drove down the path, blue jeep kept in sight.

 

-§-

 

When Stiles pulled up to the train depot, using GPS to find Boyd, he didn’t know what to expect. Finding Scott with his guts spilling out everywhere was definitely not what he’d imagined.

 

Scott was curled up on one of the old mattresses, hunched in on himself and screaming in pain. The pack was surrounding him, eyes burning gold and freaked out; Isaac’s shirt was covered with blood. Allison was crying, her face streaked and eyes puffy, and Lydia was currently trying to sow Scott back together, eyes narrowed in concentration even though she was white as a sheet.

 

“What the hell happened?” Stiles asked, rushing over to Scott’s side.

 

His friend was deathly pale and covered in blood. Stiles took his hand and squeezed, Scott squeezed back only a little bit.

 

“It was the alpha pack; they're still here,” Isaac said, his speech distorted by his fangs. “We were ambushed it the forest, it was the twins. We knocked out Ethan pretty early but Aiden is the one who got Scott. After that I just grabbed Scott and ran,” he finished.

 

Stiles’ breath caught in his throat. Anger raged within him, making his blood boil. If they were still here that meant they weren’t done, as if killing Derek and Erica wasn’t enough to tear the pack apart now they were going after the betas. How much more damage could they possibly do?

 

Stiles didn’t realize he was trembling until Lydia put a bloodied hand on his shoulder, led him away. “I’ve sewn him up best I can. His healing should handle the rest. He’ll be okay Stiles, he’s tough,” she said, taking his hand in hers.

 

Stiles swallowed hard, nodded. Isaac started growling.

 

The Winchesters were slowly climbing down the stairs, flashlights in hand. Isaac was about two seconds away from lunging so Stiles rushed forward and grabbed him, held him back.

 

“It's okay, Isaac. I know them. I’ll handle it,” he said, running a comforting hand down the beta’s back.

 

Isaac didn’t back down, but he did relax a little, giving Stiles a nod. Stiles breathed deeply then walked towards the brothers.

 

“You could have at least knocked,” he said, arms crossed.

 

Sam turned off his flashlight, put it in his pocket. “Your friend okay?” he asked, nodding at Scott.

 

Stiles stepped into his line of sight, shielding his friend. “He will be. Had a little run in with some friends of ours,” he replied, voice bitter.

 

“Some friends, poor kid looks shredded. How is he even alive?” Dean asked, peering over Stiles’ shoulder.

 

Stiles resisted the urge to flick him between the eyes.

 

“Its another one of the breeds abilities, they are able to heal from pretty vicious wounds. There are only a few things that can kill them,” he stated, looking behind him when he heard footsteps.

 

Allison was walking towards them, tears mostly wiped away. “Who are you?” She asked, fingers brushing over the knife on her hip.

 

“Uh, we’re the Winchesters. I’m Sam, this is Dean,” Sam said, smiling politely and offering his hand.

 

Allison didn’t shake it.

 

Sam lowered his hand, his smile faltering.

 

“You two hunters?” she asked, eyes narrowing.

 

Stiles put his hand on her shoulder and squeezed it. “Its okay, Allison. They were here to help me with something and now they are leaving, right?” Stiles said, fixing the brothers with a stare.

 

Dean simply shrugged and Sam didn’t reply, his attention fixed on the pack. Boyd and Isaac were still shifted, standing protectively in front of Scott, growls rumbling in their chests. Lydia was cleaning Scott up, removing the remaining blood and bandaging up his torso. Danny was in the corner furiously typing away on his laptop looking like a man on a mission.

 

“How many of you are…you know?” Sam asked.

 

Allison grabbed her knife then, threatening to unsheathe it, but Stiles shook his head and placed his hand over hers. For some reason, he felt like he could trust the Winchesters; they seemed more fascinated with the pack than eager to kill them. He would still watch them closely, but he didn’t see the need to be hostile.

  
“Just Boyd, Isaac, and Scott now,” he replied, taking a step back to allow the brothers to enter.

 

He was taking a big chance and possibly putting his pack at risk but maybe, just maybe, he could get the Winchesters to help him with the alpha pack. With Derek gone, there was little to no chance of beating them and Stiles for one was not about to sit around and watch his friends die, not again. He’d already lost too much. This could be the righting of his wrong.

 

“So who are these friends of yours? Seems like they know how to have a good time,” Dean said, looking around the depot, before his eyes landed on Scott.

 

“They're called the alpha pack. They are a pack of alpha werewolves who go around ‘testing’ new alphas. Truthfully, they just go around picking off packs to gain more power, become the most powerful pack. Killing Derek was step two but now they need to kill all the betas to complete it. Scott was pretty close to being step three,” Stiles replied, leaning against the abandoned train car. 

 

“What was step one?” Dean asked, pausing to look at Stiles.

 

Stiles looked at the ground, his throat tightening a little. “Erica, she was a beta. They captured her a Boyd about four months ago. Tortured them for a while, to drive Derek crazy, then killed her and let Boyd go as a message,” he murmured.

 

A dark cloud settled over the room.

 

“I’m sorry. Seems you guys have hit quite a rough patch,” Sam said.

 

Stiles sighed and nodded. “Wouldn’t be the first. We’ve had quite a few rough patches in our little town,” he replied.

 

“Not that this small talk isn’t nice but why the hell are you guys here?” Lydia asked, stepping forward his her hands on her hips.

 

“I asked them to come. They were helping me with that problem I told you about,” Stiles answered.

 

Lydia was the only one Stiles told about his ghostly encounters. He figured she would understand better than anyone after what she went through with Peter.

 

Lydia nodded, looking back at the brothers. “How long have you two been hunting?” she asked.

 

“Longer than you've been alive,” Dean replied, not sharing any further.

 

Lydia pursed her lips at the short answer but didn’t push. She flipped her hair over her shoulder and folded her arms, letting out a sigh. “Well, there isn’t much more I can do to help Scott so I am taking Danny home then going home myself. Call me if anything happens,” she said, turning to Stiles.

 

Stiles nodded she smiled warmly before calling for Danny, giving Isaac a quick peck on the lips. Danny snapped his computer shut and trotted over, patting Stiles on the shoulder before following Lydia out. Stiles waited until the door shut again before turning to the brothers.

 

“So, what now?” he asked.

 

Sam, looking a bit sheepish, pulled a journal out of his pocket. “If you don’t mind, I would love to take some notes for our archives back home. We’ve never come across anything like what you have here and I can’t say I’m not fascinated,” he replied, opening the over crammed journal and flipping to a half empty page.

 

“Tell you what, I’ll tell you everything you need to know if you let me take a gander at that thing,” Stiles said, shifting his weight to one foot, eyes flicking to the journal.

 

The brothers seemed to bristle at that a bit, sharing unsure glances before looking back at Stiles.

 

“Sure, I guess. Deal,” Sam replied, reaching out a hand.

 

Stiles shook it.

 

He had a feeling the Winchesters stay in Beacon Hills was only just beginning.

 

-§-

 

Stiles spoke for hours, watching Sam's pen scribble furiously over the page as he tried to catch every detail that spewed out of Stiles’ mouth.

 

He told them everything he’d learned about the breed every since Scott had been bitten. He told stories as well, hoping to explain things with a little more in detail when the brothers asked questions. Sometimes he had to pause, eyes getting dark, and wouldn’t talk for a few moments. After taking a deep breath, he would dive right back in like nothing had happened and the brothers were nice enough to play along.

 

He told them about Erica and Derek, what had happened to them and why the alpha pack was here. He told them what had happened to Scott. Eventually, the stories came to an end and the notes ceased. A silence settled over the room for a little while; it was kind of sad and a bit bitter. Then someone groaned. Stiles shot up and practically threw himself at Scott, grabbing his hand and looking him in the eyes.

 

“Hey buddy, welcome back to the world of the living,” he laughed, clearly relieved.

 

Scott groaned again, eyes squinting against the light overhead. “I feel like I got my insides scraped out,” he said, wincing as he tried to sit up.

 

Stiles grabbed his forearms, helping him into a sitting position and keeping a hand on his shoulder to steady him. “S’okay. You're fine now,” he replied, needing to reassure himself as much as Scott.

 

Scott smiled, lopsided and puppy like. “Did I give Mommy Stilinski a heart attack?” he joked, laughing weakly.

 

Stiles snorted, rolling his eyes. “Dude, please, if anyone is the woman in our relationship it's you. I'm not the one with scented bath beads and ‘manly perfumes’.”

 

Scott’s mouth dropped open, his cheeks a bit redder. “Those were from Allison! They were from France, all the men use that stuff there!” he squawked.

 

Stiles laughed and shook his head. “Sure, dude, whatever you want to tell yourself. I think she was just tired of having a boyfriend that smelled like wet dog,” he said, standing up and offering Scott a hand.

 

Scott took it, goofy smile back in place. “Whatever, asswipe,”

  
They both laughed and then Stiles drew Scott into his arms, squeezing him as tightly as he dared, closing his eyes for a moment as relief washed over him. Scott was okay; he was okay; everyone was okay.

 

For now at least.

 

But who knows how long it was until the next attack. His throat tightened at the thought.

 

Dean cleared his throat and the two broke apart, shoulders still brushing.

 

“So, this alpha pack... have they killed humans?” he asked.

 

Stiles looked to Scott and then back. “Yeah, a lot,” he replied.

 

The brothers shared a look, Sam raising his eyebrows. Dean looked like he was about to whine but he just sighed heavily and hung his head a bit.

 

“Guess we’re still on the clock, Sammy,”

 

-§-

 

Sam collapsed onto his bed the second the brothers entered their motel room. He sighed heavily and buried his face in his pillow, his body going slack with exhaustion. Even though his body was screaming for sleep, his mind was still loud and live.

 

“Dean, are we really going to do this?” he asked, cracking open his eyes to peer at his brother across the way, also face down on his bed.

 

Dean sighed heavily. “They’re killing people, Sam. Its kind of our job,” he replied, yawning.

 

“I know that, but helping one pack of werewolves fight another? That’s a little crazy, even for us.”

 

“Well, if they start getting the munchies for human then we will take them out. All I know is that this ‘alpha pack’ needs to be handled before anyone else gets hurt. You saw what they did to that kid. No human would come back from that, I should know.”

 

Sam winced. He remembered all to clearly Dean’s run in with hellhounds. How they’d shredded him until there wasn’t much left. He shivered and forced that memory away.

 

“Well, let's just try not to get ourselves killed at least,” Sam said finally, closing his eyes again.

 

Dean snorted. “Always do.” 

 

“I know for a fact that is a lie.”

 

The brothers had grown used to the angel’s sudden appearances so they were only slightly rattled when he spoke.

 

Castiel sat at the crappy desk in the corner of the room, bright blue eyes fixed on the brothers, face expressionless.

 

 “Cas? What the hell!” Dean cursed, rising from his bed, arms crossing.

 

The angel stood, trench coat swishing around him as he crossed the room. “I understand my sudden arrival was unexpected, I apologize.”

 

“Unexpected? Cas, we haven’t seen you since you disappeared with the angel tablet,” Dean replied, his eyes darkening.

 

Castiel’s mask slipped a bit at that, some regret showing in his eyes, but he quickly steeled again. “I am sorry. I had something I had to do,” he replied.

  
“Something you had to do? You beat the crap out me, healed me, took the tablet, and ran. Yeah, clearly that was something you had to do,” Dean growled, bunching his hands into fists.

 

He looked pissed off but Sam could see the hurt in his eyes. Castiel and Dean were close and, after what happened at Lucifer’s crypt, Dean was hurting. Castiel had just vanished and the brothers weren't even sure if he was dead or alive. Now, he was here, as if nothing had happened. Dean had every right to be pissed and so did Sam.

 

“Why are you here?” Sam asked, cutting into the conversation.

 

The two of them could sort out their issues later.

 

Castiel cast one last glance at Dean before turning his attention to Sam. Dean huffed bitterly and went across the room, pulled a beer from the mini fridge, drained it in a few gulps before grabbing another. Sam and Castiel watched him, equally sad frowns on their faces.

 

Castiel turned to Sam then. “I am here because I have a job for you.”

 

Sam’s eyes brow raised in surprise. “A job? Cas, we're already on a job. A pretty big job. We don’t have time right now.”

 

Castiel shook his head. “The job you are on now is apart of the one I have for you. I am assuming the boy told you all about his dead alpha?” he asked.

 

Sam nodded, confused.

 

“Derek Hale has a role to play much like you and Dean. He needs to be saved.”

 

Spluttering came from the kitchen and Dean was currently pounding his chest, choking on a sip of beer. “Excuse me? We have to save who?” he asked, voice rough from coughing.

 

“Derek Hale. The alpha the boy spoke of. You must retrieve him from Purgatory. That is the mission I came to give you,” Castiel replied, turning to Dean.

 

“And why the hell should we do that? He’s a werewolf. If you ask me our job was done for us. Why should we bring back a monster?” Dean replied, crossing his arms.

 

“Because he is needed. I just explained this.” Castiel said sounding a bit annoyed.

 

“I know you just explained it, but it doesn’t make sense. Who gave these orders anyway? I thought you weren’t Heaven’s bitch anymore,” Dean said, looking a bit suspicious.

 

“It is not an order. It’s an instinct. Derek Hale needs to be saved.”

 

The room fell silent for a moment.

 

“Okay then, answer me this. Why should we do anything you ask of us? What do we owe you?” Dean replied, voice cold.

 

Sam could see the hurt flash across Castiel’s face, only for a brief moment, before anger replaced it.

 

“You don’t owe me anything. But if Derek Hale is not saved then everyone in this town will die.”

 

Dean’s eyes narrowed. “Fine, we’ll do your stupid job. But I will be the one going, just me, not Sam.”

 

“Dean! I am not letting you go by yourself!” Sam cut in, facing his brother.

  
Dean shook his head. “No, absolutely not. I just got you out of Purgatory. There is no way I am letting you back down there again. Especially now.”

 

“Just because I am doing these trials doesn’t mean I am incapable of doing my job. How many times do we need to go over this? I'm not helpless.”

 

“I know you're not. But I am not risking it, Sam. Besides, someone needs to help those kids."

 

Sam just stared, mouth open, trying to form words, but he couldn’t. He just sighed, angry, and sat on his bed, running his fingers through his hair. As much as he hated it, Dean did have a point. Dean was better suited for Purgatory. He'd spent more time there and was, presently, in better shape than Sam.

 

Castiel watched the two brothers for a moment before turning to Dean. “I will meet you at the boy’s house tomorrow. I will take you to a rogue reaper who will bring you to Purgatory.”

 

Then, he was gone.

 

The brothers didn’t speak for the rest of the night. Both went to bed, angry and hurt, but neither slept soundly.

 

-§-

 

Stiles woke up to the sound of a rumbling engine driving down his street. He yawned, rubbed his eyes, and sat up. He managed not to trip over Scott who was passed out on his floor, curled up in a little nest of blankets. Stiles smiled at him, snapped a picture with his phone, and began thinking of dog jokes for later.

 

Stiles looked out his window and saw a gleaming black car parked in front of his house. It was the Winchesters. What were they doing here at 7:30 in the morning? With a groan Stiles walked down the stairs and opened the front door.

 

“Morning, sunshine. We brought coffee and doughnuts,” Dean said, pushing past Stiles into the house.

 

Sam followed a little more slowly, scooting his way around Stiles, who was still staring out into the front yard, dazed.

 

“Wha-huh? W-What are you guys doing here? It's like, the crack of dawn,” he grumbled then yawned.

 

“Dawn was two and a half hours ago. Plus, coffee,” Dean replied, waving the drink in front of Stiles’ face.

 

“I didn’t know your services came with free refreshments,” Stiles said, curling his hands around the warm cup.

  
“Oh, they don’t,” Dean said and handed him a bill with a smile.

 

Stiles frowned.

 

“Anyway, we like to get started early. No use wasting the day away,” Sam said, putting a duffel bag on Stiles’ kitchen table, and started taking things out.

 

“Sure, whatever. Uh, yeah,” Stiles said, walking into the kitchen to investigate the doughnuts Dean mentioned. He was not awake enough for this.

 

Footfalls sounded from the stairs and Scott appeared, hair sticking up in about a hundred different directions and eyes still squinted with sleep. He stumbled into the kitchen, leaned against Stiles, and groaned.

 

“Morning to you too,” Stiles said, handing him a cup of coffee.

 

Scott just grunted, planting himself in one of the kitchen chairs, head falling onto the table.

 

Sam placed his weapons and maps and such diligently around Scott, making a little head shaped hole. Scott didn’t so much as flinch, in fact Stiles was pretty sure he was asleep again.

 

“Are all werewolves like this?” Dean asked, poking Scott slightly.

 

Scott just snored.

 

Stiles shook his head, a fond smile on his face. “Nope, just my Scotty. Never was a morning person. I used to have to pour cold water on him when we were younger. He’s learned better now.”

 

“Still not appreciated by the way. I am perfectly capable of waking up on my own,” Scott grumbled, head still on the table.

 

“I know, but it was fun to watch you squirm.”

 

“You are such a jerk.”

 

“But you love me anyway!” Stiles sing-songed, planting a doughnut in front of Scott.

  
“Don’t know why,” Scott replied, grabbing the doughnut and dragging it to his face. He managed to make it look like so much effort.

 

Sam cleared his throat. “Anyway, now that you’re awake we, uh, have some news.”

 

Stiles raised his eyebrows. “Should I be sitting down for this?”

 

Sam didn’t answer.

 

Stiles took a seat anyway, his clutch tightening around his coffee cup.

 

“Uh, we know of way to, uh… We know how to bring Derek back,” Sam said slowly.

 

Stiles felt the air leave his lungs and Scott’s head rose from the table, eyes wide and mind definitely awake.

 

Bring Derek back? How was that even possible? Stiles had researched for months, every resurrection spell or ritual he could dig up, and none of them had successful stories. If he could have brought Derek back he would, in a heartbeat, so how the hell had the Winchesters figured out how?

 

“What?” Stiles asked, his voice cracking.

 

“Dean and I, we know how we can bring him,” Sam repeated.

 

His hand was shaking so badly that Stiles had to put his coffee down. “How? I researched every known resurrection spell and ritual known and none of them were successful.”

 

“That’s because what’s dead should stay dead,” Scott growled, fixing the brothers with a suspicious stare.

 

That stung a bit.

 

Stiles looked at Scott. “You really believe that? If there was anyway to bring Allison back if she had died wouldn’t you take it?” he asked.

 

Scott swallowed hard at that, eyes growing a bit distressed. “I-I don’t know, Stiles. What I do know is we shouldn’t be messing with that kind of stuff. it disrupts the order of things!” he replied, a bit upset.

 

“You’re telling me if Allison dropped dead right now you would do nothing? You would do nothing to try and save her? You'd just let her stay dead? Even if there was a way to fix it? Derek didn’t deserve to die!” Stiles said, his voice rising.

 

“But this isn’t Allison! This is Derek, the guy who has made our lives a living hell since day one! Of course, it was sad he died but it should stay that way! Why on earth would you want to bring him back?”

 

“Because he’s my Allison, Scott!” Stiles yelled, a bit choked, feeling his eyes begin to burn.

 

Scott’s mouth fell open.

 

“I feel like we’re missing something here,” Dean said.

 

Stiles looked away from Scott, wiping away the few tears that had built up in his eyes. “It's nothing important. So, how are you going to bring Derek back?” he asked.

 

“Well, since Derek was a werewolf his soul went to Purgatory. It’s a place between heaven and hell where all the monsters are sent when they die. We have a way to get into Purgatory and retrieve Derek. As long as you didn't burn his bones, we can bring his soul back and put it back in his body. He will be just like he was before,” Sam explained.

 

It sounded to good to be true.

 

“How do you know this place is even real?” Stiles asked.

 

“Because I personally spent a year in the butt crack of it, fighting day and night, and Sam took a little trip there himself not that long ago,” Dean replied from his seat in the corner, sharpening a huge knife. "He's the reason we know how to get back there."

 

Stiles felt like his head was going to explode. There was a way to bring him back, he could finally right his wrong.

  
“Alright, well, point me in the right direction and I’ll leave now,” Stiles said, standing up from the table, alive with a whole new fire.

 

“Whoa there, cowboy. It isn’t that easy. One, I'll be the one going in. You have no idea what it’s like down there and you wouldn't last an hour. Two, you can’t just open a door and walk through; you have to be transported through a portal. And to get to the portal you need a rogue reaper to take you, which takes plenty of string pulling to get access to,” Dean said, rising from his set and walking over, a large blade resting on his shoulder lazily.

 

“Oh.”

 

“Yeah, so don’t worry I’ll get your boyfriend back in one piece,” Dean finished.

 

“My question is what do you guys get out of this? Why would you help us with something this big?” Scott nearly growled, rising up from his seat as well.

 

Dean sighed, rolling his eyes. “Lets just say it’s a favor to a friend in higher places,” he replied then turned to gather his things.

 

“What do you need from us?” Stiles asked.

 

Dean pondered this for a moment, before a massive smile covered his face. “Pie.”

  
Sam’s sigh could be heard all the way from the living room.

 

-§-

 

 

They were all gathered outside on the porch when Castiel appeared right behind Stiles.

 

Stiles may or may not have screeched.

 

“I’m ready to depart,” Castiel said, no hellos or introductions to be given.

  
Dean’s jaw tensed, annoyance already bleeding through his cool façade. “Yeah, okay, princess, keep your wings on,” he grumbled, shoving one last round of bullets into his backpack.

 

Stiles was hopping from foot to foot, vibrating with energy and nerves. This could actually work. In a few days he would have Derek back, safe and alive, in his arms where he should be. He didn’t know whether to be happy or terrified.

 

There was still a chance Derek could blame him for everything.

 

“Well, I guess I can’t fit anymore weapons into this bag then I already have so I guess I’m ready,” Dean announced, slinging the pack onto this shoulder. “Got the picture?”

 

Stiles nodded and handed over the picture from his wallet. He’d taken it of Derek one day with an old polaroid he’d found in his attic. The alpha wasn’t paying attention for once; the betas were just lazily snoozing in the sun after a hard round of training and Derek was just watching them. And then, he actually smiled. It was the first time Stiles had ever seen him smile in the whole time he knew him, a real genuine and content smile. Stiles snapped a picture as fast as he could.

 

Derek caught him of course, whipped around at the flash and the sound of a click, but Stiles refused to give him the photo, tucked it away in his wallet as proof that Derek Hale was an actual human being with emotions and other facial expressions besides ‘I just sucked on a big ass lemon'.

 

So Stiles handed the photo over, praying that he would get it back in the future, and then stepped back.

 

“Well, I should be back in a few days. And if not, I’m dead,” Dean said.

 

No one could tell if he was joking or not.

 

Sam stepped forward and drew his brother into a tight hug. “Be careful. If you don't come back, I will be coming to kick your ass.”

 

Dean laughed, a smile taking over his features. “I don’t doubt it, Sammy. See you soon, little brother.”

 

They broke apart and Castiel placed a hand on Dean’s shoulder.

 

“Ready, angel cake,” Dean said, smirking at Castiel.

 

The angel just rolled his eyes and then the both of them were gone.

 

Stiles stood on the porch for a few more minutes, eyes closed, and did something he hadn’t done in a long time.

 

Prayed.


	2. Bring Him Home

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally chapter 2 is here! I am so sorry it took me so long to update this guys, but I am not joking when I say this is the hardest chapter of the whole story and I had to make sure it was perfect. My beta, halewinchester, is an amazing human being who deserves all the applause because she basically wrote half this chapter herself and stayed up until 3AM last night finishing the final edits. So everyone give her a thank you by heading over to her page and checking out her SPN/TW story, Roamers. So without further ado, chapter 2!

Angel travel blowed. It was like getting sucked into a giant vacuum and being swirled around in a super tornado before getting spat back somewhere new. It might not be bad for angels, they did it all the time, but for humans, it was awful.

And Dean hated it.

Castiel transported them to some city in god knows where and Dean was currently bent over, hands on his knees, trying not to throw up the five doughnuts he had for breakfast. Castiel wasn't concerned with Dean's wellbeing; he was just standing with his hands hanging loosely at his sides, squinting at the buildings. 

If Dean didn't know better, he looked like a very lost and confused individual. But that was just Cas, always with the squinting. People simply walked by, oblivious to the two of them. 

Dean groaned, glanced over his shoulder. "Trouble in paradise?" he coughed.

Castiel didn't reply for a moment before he turned his attention to Dean. "I have located the reaper. It's within the city."

Dean sighed and straightened up with a wince, his stomach still turning. "Whatever, I don't care where it is as long as we can walk there. No more of this angel travel crap."

Castiel nodded. "It's a fairly decent walking distance. I would suspect about twelve blocks north."

"Let's just get moving. Where are we anyway?"

"Plano, Texas."

"Texas, huh? I could go for beer about now."

"Dean, now is not the time to pleasure yourself with alcoholic beverages. We are on a case," Castiel said seriously, eyebrows knitting together.

"Dude, how long have you known me?"

The angel simply rolled his eyes and kept walking, Dean reluctantly in tow.

They walked in silence for about nine blocks before Dean broke. 

"So, Purgatory. Never saw myself going back there," he said.

"I just hope your skills are still as sharp as they were. You'll need it," Castiel replied, his eyes growing a little sad. "I do hope you survive."

"Real touching, Cas." 

"I would miss you if you didn't return," he added, quietly. 

There were witty response on the tip of his tongue, but Dean kept his mouth shut. Five years together and he still couldn't figure the guy out. Three months ago, Castiel beat the crap out of him and he hadn't heard from him since. Now, he was spouting off about missing Dean when he was gone. As far as Dean was concerned, Castiel couldn't care less about his wellbeing let alone miss him. They weren't as close as they once were, not since their first go round in Purgatory. It hurt, ripping open old wounds.

"I didn't think you cared anymore," Dean confessed.

Castiel stopped and faced the hunter, his eyebrows drawn together. "I have considered you and Sam family for a long time now. I can only hope you still hold similar feelings."

"Sam can barely stay standing for ten minutes. I've been praying to you for months and nothing," Dean said, struggling to keep his voice steady.

Castiel frowned. "I am afraid my life has been complicated for quite some time now. Things have been... blurry. I just hope you, and Sam, can find it within yourselves to forgive my absences."

Dean sighed, the corner of his lip quirking up just a little. "Sam is never mad at you. Hell, he's defending you most of the time."

"Yes, Sam has been a very loyal friend. But that is not what you feel?"

"I don't know what I feel. Guess I'm still not convince you're back."

"You don't trust me," Castiel deduced.

Dean wanted to deny it, but it was true. He stared back at Castiel, not willing to vocalize his agreement, but he didn't have to. 

Castiel seemed saddened by this, the light in his eyes dimming a little, but his face read understanding. "We best keep moving," he said quietly, clearly done with the conversation.

Dean nodded, falling in step beside him, and kept his eyes on the path ahead. He followed Castiel all the way to a deserted alley, before the angel left him without another word.

"Guess I deserved that," Dean muttered to himself.

"Dean Winchester."

Dean squinted, spotting a man coming out of the shadows with a cocky smirk. 

"What can I do for you?"

Dean shifted his weight, straightening up. "Get me to Purgatory." 

The reaper's smile grew.

-§-

"So Purgatory, what's it like down there?" Stiles asked, offering Sam a glass of his father's scotch.

Sam tipped his glass to Stiles, before downing half the liquid. "It's basically nonstop fighting. No time to rest, just survival. It sucks," Sam said bluntly. "I was only there for a few hours, but my brother spent a year down there."

"How did you get out?" 

"Dean sent a friend to rescue me, he brought me to the portal out."

"So how come he spent so long down there, you couldn't find him?"

Sam shifted. "I was, uh, occupied throughout the year Dean was down there. But he wasn't alone, he had Cas and... Benny," he said finally.

"Who's Benny?" Stiles asked.

"A vampire."

"Vampires are real?!" Stiles squawked, eyes going wide.

"There's a lot more than werewolves out there." 

Sam reached over to pick up the leather-bound journal sitting on the edge of the kitchen table. Stiles grabbed it, carefully unlatching it, and started flipping through the pages.

"Leviathans, demons, sirens, vampires, fairies! Jesus, is everything real?" Stiles asked.

Sam polished off his drink with ease, letting out a heavy breath. "Well, jackalopes are yet to be proven," Sam replied, setting the glass down.

Stiles couldn't help but laugh. It felt good, after so long. 

"Do you mind if I copy a few pages out of this?" he asked.

Sam shrugged. "Sure, just be careful. It was my dad's," he replied, meeting Stiles' gaze.

Stiles nodded, setting the journal down on the table. "Do you think they'll be okay?" he asked quietly, tracing swirls onto the wooden tabletop.

Sam sighed from where he sat, leaning back into his seat, running his fingers through his hair. "There's no safer place than at my brother's side. Dean's got me through a lot and he'll be coming back with Derek," he said confidently.

Stiles could only hope Sam was right. He was putting a lot of faith in Dean, something he's had trouble having and giving for a long time. But this was Derek. Stiles would give Dean all the faith in the world if it meant he could just have Derek back in his arms again.

Safe and alive. 

He would pay in blood if that were what it took. But for now he could only hope and pray. 

Bring him home. 

Lydia's scream from the kitchen had everyone in the house on their feet and running for her in an instant.

She was pressed against Stiles' refrigerator, carton of orange juice in hand, staring with wide eyes at Castiel, who was flipping through Stiles' notes, not affected by the traumatized red-head.

"He-he just showed up, out of nowhere," she gasped, reaching for Isaac the moment the young werewolf was in range.

"S'okay, Lyds. It's just Castiel. He's an angel," Stiles supplied, smacking the angel's hands away from his notes.

Castiel scowled. "Dean is in Purgatory. His mission has begun," he said, turning to Sam.

The hunter nodded, taking a shaky breath. He was grateful for the update, but Dean was clearly in a place no one should ever go. Sam wouldn't wish that upon anyone and neither would Stiles. But Derek was already there and Dean was probably the only one able to get him out.

"An angel? An actual honest to god angel? I thought they didn't exist," she breathed, eyes traveling up and down Castiel's form. "Or be so cute."

Isaac scowled.

"Yeah, you'd be surprised just what's real," Stiles replied, handing Lydia the Winchester journal. "Take a look at that and you'll see that our little realm of weird is nothing compared to the shit these guys see everyday," he said, nodding towards Sam as he grabbed a glass from the cabinet.

Lydia silently handed over the orange juice carton, accepted the full glass Stiles passed back, and continued to stare at Castiel. 

"What's it like? Heaven?" she asked.

Castiel flinched, eyes focusing on the floor. "Nothing like it was," is all he said. 

The room grew silent.

"So, I have been wondering. Who is alpha now that Derek is gone? Are you Scott?" Sam asked smoothly changing the subject.

Scott snorted. "Yeah right, if anyone is that alpha it's Stiles," he replied.

This was news to Stiles. "What? Since when was I elected as the alpha? I'm not even a werewolf, dude. You must have some wires crossed up there," Stiles said, lightly tapping Scott's forehead.

The werewolf scowled and flicked Stiles' fingers away. "No, I'm serious. Everyone listens to you, you were always the one to come up with the plans and you look out for us. You've pretty much been the alpha since the day he was gone," he said with a shrug, leaning against the doorframe. 

"It would make sense, you being Derek's 'mate' and all," Sam drawled, poking around in Stiles' refrigerator. He reappeared with an apple and some peanut butter.

"Whoa whoa whoa, me and Derek are- were not 'mates'. I didn't even get a chance to-" Stiles cut himself short, falling silent.

"You are still alpha, end of story," Scott decided, not forcing his best friend to continue.

Stiles sighed.

"Uh, guys? I think we have a problem," Lydia said, breaking through the silence.

Everyone turned to see two large figures outside of the house beneath the large tree in the front yard, the shadows curling around them like tendrils of smoke, masking everything accept for the familiar gleam of red eyes.

"It's the twins!" Isaac snarled, his arms automatically tightening around Lydia, eyes glowing as his fangs elongated.

"Shit," Stiles cursed, grabbing his baseball bat off the kitchen table. This was the last thing they needed. Scott was still healing from their last encounter.

"These those friends you were talking about?" Sam asked, picking up his own pistol, checking the rounds, flicking off the safety.

"The bestest," Stiles replied, voice cold.

That was enough for Sam. "Can I kill them?"

"Depends on if you can get the shot."

"Cas, take Lydia up to the attic, I'll call you if I need you," Sam said, cocking his head towards the staircase.

The angel acted quickly, grabbed Lydia's arm and they disappeared.

Isaac growled with displeasure.

"She'll be fine, Isaac," Scott said, laying a comforting hand on the beta's shoulder.

He nodded, gaze fixing on the twins once again.

"Stay inside. Let me handle this," Sam decided, heading for the door.

"Not going to happen, Thor. You can't take them alone," Stiles said.

Sam didn't fight him. Truth be told the twins scared the shit out of Stiles, any member of the alpha pack did. They were capable of really horrible things and Stiles wasn't ready to see any more people die. He wouldn't let it happen. 

Not again.

So he, flanked by Sam and the betas, slowly crept out onto his porch, shutting the door securely behind him, weapons concealed until needed. Last thing Stiles wanted were the neighbors calling the Sheriff because his son and his friends were pointing guns at people.

"Guys, long time no see," Stiles greeted, keeping his voice light, even though all he wanted was to see their heads on pikes.

"Stiles," Ethan greeted, "Who's the new guy?" he asked, eyes flickering to Sam. They briefly flashed red.

"Just a friend from out of town. He's helping me out with a pest problem," Stiles replied with a shit-eating grin.

The twins didn't like that; growls rumbled in their throats. 

"Just can't leave things alone can you," Aiden snarled, claws sliding out. 

It was about to get ugly, real fast.

Stiles swallowed, shifted his weight, leaning on his baseball bat. "You know me, always getting my hands dirty."

"And who's blood do you want on your hands tonight?" Ethan taunted, eyes bleeding red.

That stung, caught Stiles off guard and he took a surprised step back. Of course, they would remind him of Derek, try to get him weakened before the fight.

Isaac broke faster than Stiles did, lunging off the porch. He collided with Aiden, sinking his teeth right into the juncture between the alpha's neck and shoulder. The alpha howled in protest, eyes going wild as he tried to scraped Isaac off, claws ripping into the beta's back.

Ethan used the distraction to approach the rest of them, a smile plastered on his face as he walked up the first step of the porch. That was one step to far. Scott threw himself at him, sending the second alpha to go barreling back and hit the pavement with a loud thud, the breath getting knocked from his lungs.

It all went to hell after that.

Sam was trying to get a shot, gun switching from one twin to the next while he looked for an opportunity, and Stiles was basically trying to keep himself from falling apart. Things were getting bad way to fast. 

Sam finally just cursed and pocketed his gun, drawing a knife from his belt, and raced down the steps to help Isaac who had gotten himself pinned beneath Aiden and was taking some brutal blows to the chest. A howl of pain pulled Stiles from his frozen state.

Scott was struggling to get Ethan's teeth unclamped from his shoulder by smashing his fist into the twin's head repeatedly until Ethan finally gave a furious snarl and released, claws immediately sinking into Scott's stomach. Blood spurted from Scott's mouth, a chocking gurgling sound coming from his throat.

Oh hell no.

Stiles ran up and clocked Ethan in the jaw full force with his bat, heard the satisfying crunch of bone as the alpha flew back and tumbled across the lawn, shocked. That was way overdue.

"Scott, you okay?" Stiles yelled, eyes glued to Ethan as he began to pick himself back up, his own eyes ablaze with rage.

"Yeah, I'm okay," Scott croaked, coming to Stiles' side. "We need more help."

Stiles looked over at his best friend, his grip on his bat going shaky. "I know."

At that moment Sam's voice broke through the sounds of the fight. "Cas!"

The angel appeared within a second, two fingers pressed against Aiden's forehead, and the alpha went out like a light. His knees gave out beneath him and he crashed to the ground, eyes rolled back into his head. Ethan snarled in outrage, weighing his options. 

Castiel remained at Isaac's side. The beta was badly injured, his clothes were shredded and he was coughing up blood. Stiles hurried for Isaac, doing what he could to help. 

By the time he looked up, Ethan was gone along with Aiden's body. As much as Stiles wanted to go after them, he wouldn't risk Isaac's life for revenge.

"We gotta get him inside," Sam said.

Scott picked up the other werewolf. Even injured he was the strongest. He stumbled a little, but Stiles kept him on course. Sam cleared off the couch and Stiles helped Scott lay Isaac out on it.

Footsteps came rushing down the staircase and Lydia's shocked gasp filled the silence of the room. 

"Isaac!" She flew to his side, hands hovering over him as Sam and Stiles got him in a more comfortable position. He was whimpering, pained groans escaping him every now and then.

"Stiles, get the medical kit!" she said, running a shaky hand through Isaac's hair, wincing when it came back streaked with red.

"That won't be necessary," Castiel said, stepping into the house. He crossed the room in a few easy strides and then tapped Isaac's forehead with two fingers. Instantly all the wounds and blood was gone, it was like nothing had ever happened.

Isaac sat up with a gasp, eyes wide, and locked gazes with Lydia. She was frozen for about a second before she threw her arms around Isaac's waist and buried her face in his neck, squeezing him tightly with a sob of relief.

Sam turned to Stiles. "So that was only two of them? How many more are there?"

"They're a pack of five, or four..."

Sam raised an eyebrow at Stiles.

"The twins sort of morph into a giant alpha so I don't know if they count as one or two," Stiles replied with a sigh, falling heavily into the armchair by the fireplace. 

"I think two, pretty sure," Scott supplied, looking over the patches of skin that should have still been covered with alpha injuries.

Stiles cast Castiel a grateful glance and the angel nodded in return, looking out the front window. Stiles leant back, grateful for a moment of rest when light filled the room briefly. 

His father was home.

"Shit."

His father had accepted a lot of things, but even Stiles had trouble believing there was an angel standing in front of him. He considered telling them to go, to run, but his father was through the door so fast that Stiles would have been left explaining an honest to god disappearing act.

His dad froze, take out bags almost slipping out of his hands. He wasn't ready for a room full of people. He exhaled slowly, his eyes turning to Stiles.

"Stiles, do you want to tell me why there are two strange men in my living room and one of them has a gun?" he asked, hand resting on his own firearm as he looked Sam over.

Stiles stood up and walked over to his dad, took the bags from his hands, and rested a hand on his shoulder. "It's okay, Dad. Sam is a hunter; he and his brother Dean are helping me with the alpha pack problem. Castiel is their friend."

"I thought Chris and Allison were already helping with that," he said, following Stiles into the kitchen, watching as his son began to split the food onto plates. 

"They are, but we needed a bit more help then just them."

"Stiles, you told me they would go away after what happened to Derek..."

Stiles froze, his grip tightening on the counter top. "Dad, I'm trying my hardest okay? You are just going to have to trust me. I don't want to see anyone else die just as much as you do," he said a bit harsher than he meant to.

He saw the Sheriff's lips turn down into a frown, his eyes growing darker. "Stiles, I do trust you. I just don't want to see you get hurt. You have to remember I am still pretty new to this, Melissa has a way better head on her shoulders right now than I do," he replied quietly, coming up behind his son and laying a gentle hand on his shoulder.

Stiles wanted to turn around and just collapse into his Dad's arms, cry into his shoulder until he couldn't anymore. But he couldn't, he had to stay strong for the pack and for himself. If he fell apart now more people would die, and that was something he was not about to let happen.

The Sheriff dropped his hand, started helping Stiles sort the food. "So where is this Dean character?"

"Uh, about that..."

"Stiles."

"Just have a seat and I'll tell you the whole story, but give me a second," Stiles said quickly, handing his father a plate of food before sliding past him and out of the kitchen. "Scott, call the pizza place and order whatever you guys want, invite Allison over because she needs to be briefed on everything, Boyd too, and let me know when it gets here," he said tossing Scott his cell phone. 

The werewolf caught it easily and nodded. Stiles walked back into the kitchen, taking his seat across from his Dad.

"Dad, they know how to bring Derek back."

Better to just dive right in then to skirt around the issue.

His father paused, fork midway to his mouth, and looked up. "Excuse me?"

"They can do it, Dad. They have done it! They are bringing Derek back, he will be just like before!" Stiles repeated, his voice louder with excitement.

"Stiles, you can't resurrect people! It's against the laws of nature, not to mention impossible!" the Sheriff exclaimed, bringing the fork all the way to his mouth.

Stiles sighed, resisting the urge to face palm himself. "Dad, your son if the leader of a pack of werewolves and you are ruling out resurrection? Seriously?"

"Since when are you leader?"

"It's complicated but that's not the point! They are bringing Derek back! Dean is searching for him right now!" Stiles said, hands waving around for emphasis.

"I'll believe it when I see it, son. For now I am going to bed," the sheriff finally sighed and walked past him to head up the stairs to his room. The door clicked shut a moment later.

Stiles sighed and buried his face in his arms. 

He just wanted things to be over.

-§-

Dean opened his eyes when a screech echoed through the trees.

It was the biggest sense of déjà vu he'd ever had. He remembered everything clearly; it was like he'd never left. Nothing had changed. Not that he really expected it to. Purgatory was a land stuck in time. 

The ground was hard beneath his back, rocks and twigs digging into him as he rolled over and stood up. He brushed the dirt from his jacket as he surveyed the surroundings.

The sun was still the same dull grey that barely made it to the ground. The trees swayed from an eerie wind that never seemed to stop flowing, carrying screeches and caterwauls of monsters in distance. 

Blood thirsty and savage. 

Yes, this was without a doubt Purgatory.

Dean couldn't help but laugh that he felt more at home right now than he has in a year.

Shifting behind him had Dean whipping around, arms raised defensively and weapon in hand like he'd learned to do after a year down in this hell hole. The reaper groaned and lifted his head from the mound of dirt it was currently face down in. He coughed, spitting out what had gotten into his mouth.

"I hate this place," he moaned, rising slowly to his feet.

"A+ landing by the way. I had an easier time coming in with an angel and a leviathan," Dean commented, lowering his arms.

The reaper glared at him. "Well, excuse me your majesty. I apologize my landing skills were not up to your standards," he grumbled, brushing the dirt off his cheap suit, like it would help.

Dean raised an eyebrow. "Improvised?"

"Well, I don't exactly vacation here so I had to guess where we were going to land, yeah," the reaper retorted heatedly.

Dean opened up his pack. "Whatever."

The reaper sighed. "So you know how to get out of here right?"

"Yeah, I know where the portal is. You gonna hump my leg all day, or what?" he asked, turning around, only to find himself alone.

The hunter rolled his eyes and shouldered his pack, setting out deeper into the forest. He didn't have a clue of where he was going. He was looking for signs. Claw marks in the earth or maybe a howl in the distance. But considering the fact Dean was in Purgatory, it was like looking for a needle in a monster haystack. 

He decided to stay along the river. It made sense. If he found his family, they'd want to stay put and there weren't that many choices for water. He kept his eyes open for any markers, anything that would lead him to them.

Dean worked hard to remember everything Stiles told him about this breed of werewolves. Stiles had mentioned that a couple members of Derek's family could fully shift into a wolf, but most remained in a more humanistic state, like Boyd. 

He knelt down by the river to refill his canteen.

He missed his car. 

And pie.

Dean definitely missed pie.

A twig cracked behind him.

Dean whipped around, nearly slicing his arm open in his haste to pull his blade out, and his eyes scanned the undergrowth against the tree line. He didn't spot any movement, heard no other sounds outside the occasional whistle of wind or screech miles away. He settled back down beside the water, blade set on the stones beside him while he patiently waited for his canteen to fill.

Once it was he screwed the cap back on and rose back up, his machete gleaming in the dim light as he rested it on his shoulder and kept walking, quietly humming Metallica.

There was a rustle of leaves, loud enough to catch attention but not enough to cause alarm. His eyes swept left then right, up then down, as he continued walking. He couldn't ignore the way the hair was rising up on the back of his neck but he couldn't just stop either, it would signal his stalker that he'd caught onto his presence. So he continued on, still humming, get tightened his grip on his blade, remaining ever vigilant.

But he still wasn't prepared for a vampire dropping on top of him from the branches overhead, fangs elongated as he clamped down onto Dean's jacket and threw him down onto his ass.

Dean slashed out with his blade, barely missing the vampire's back as he leaped over Dean's back and landed heavily behind him, hand whipping out and snatching Dean's wrist, twisting his arm behind his back and squeezing so hard that Dean was forced to drop his blade with a cry of pain, struggling against his attacker.

Fingers tangled into the hunter's hair and forced his head down and to the side, exposing his long neck, the pulse thumping beneath the thin, pale skin. He heard his attacker growl with excitement and pleasure. Soon a hot breath was on his neck, heavy enough to send chills down Dean's spine. The breath moved to his ear and Dean could hear the vampire's lips pull into a sly smile.

"You've gotten rusty, brother."

Dean knew that southern drawl.

"Benny?" he choked, eyes flickering to the side as he tried to catch a look at his assailant.

The vampire let out a deep-throated chuckle and released Dean, offering him a hand up with a bright smile. "Welcome back to the land of the dead, brother."

He took Benny's hand and stood up, a smile spreading over his face. "Jesus Christ, Benny!" he exclaimed with a laugh, pulling him in for a hug. "What the hell kind of stunt were you trying to pull?"

They remained embraced for a second, arms tightening around each other, and then broke apart, Dean's hands still on Benny's shoulders. He couldn't stop smiling like an idiot. This was the guy that died to save his brother.

"It's been a while since we fought together. Had to see if you still had it. Apparently you've let yourself go a bit, when you went back topside," Benny laughed, slapping him lightly on the shoulder.

"Yeah, suppose I have," Dean smiled, fingers gripping Benny's shoulder a bit tighter. He swallowed and looked Benny in the eyes. "You didn't come back," he said quietly smile faltering.

Benny sighed and nodded, eyes flickering to the ground. "Yeah, I know."

"Any particular reason?"

"Brother, it ain't your fault. I don't belong up there with your kind. I like it down here. Purgatory doesn't judge a monster."

"As far as I knew Earth didn't either. I didn't, " Dean replied, hands dropping to his sides.

Benny smiled sadly. "I know you didn't, and I appreciated that. But who were we kidding, a vampire trying to fit in with the fleshies? It was like a shark trying to buddy up with the fish. Our worlds didn't mesh, Dean. You having the profession you do I would think you'd understand better than anyone."

Dean took a step back, a bit hurt.

"We went our separate ways for a reason. It's no one's fault. But you sending me back here was one of the smarter things we've done."

"I was desperate. If my brother wasn't trapped here, I never would have sent you here."

"I'm a vampire, Dean. I got fangs coming out any time I smell blood. I was barely holding it together up there. I know it wasn't what you wanted, but you would have never forgiven me or yourself if you waited until I was gums-deep in some innocent before sending me back here."

"I never should of turned my back on you."

But Benny merely smiled. "You got nothing to be sorry for, brother."

Dean let out a long breath, shoulders slumping.

"Now that we got the hallmark moment out of the way..." 

"Brothers?" Dean concluded, offering his hand.

"Brothers," Benny agreed, grasping Dean's hand firmly with his.

Dean smiled and slapped him on the shoulder lightly, before letting his hand fall back to his side.

"So, I have to ask. What's Dean Winchester doing back here in Satan's sandbox?"

Dean sighed heavily. "I'm looking for a werewolf."

Benny laughed, teeth flashing. "I know you've been missing me, brother. But a werewolf?"

"Cas says he's needed topside."

"Hot wings sent you back here for a puppy?"

"I didn't get a lot of reasons. But I saw where he was from. He's got people who need him and if Cas says he's got a part to play than who am I not to bring the flea bag home?" 

Benny whistled. "Wow, your life man."

Dean shrugged in agreement, reaching down to pick up his machete.

"So who is this guy? He got a name?"

"Derek. Derek Hale," he replied, flicking some crusted blood off the hilt.

"Well, werewolves down here tend to group together. I can lead you to werewolf territory. It's about a days hike from here," Benny said, nodding his head towards the forest over Dean's shoulder.

"Awesome," Dean sighed with relief. "Lead the way."

Benny smiled, starting off with his brother at his side.

-§-

Stiles was on slice number four of pizza when Allison walked in the door.

"Got your text, is everyone okay?" she asked, her eyes immediately finding Scott's. They shared a shy smile before she looked back to Stiles.

"We are now. Thanks to Castiel," Stiles replied, motioning to the angel over in the corner who looking through an old photo album of Stiles'.

"Castiel?" she echoed, eyebrow rising.

"Apparently, he's an angel," Lydia said, leaving Isaac's lap to greet her friend.

"A what?" Allison asked as Lydia hugged her.

"I am an angel of the Lord," Castiel answered, his eyes still focused on the photos. 

Allison didn't have to say anything. Castiel and everyone else in the room knew she didn't believe him. 

"Think you're going to have to show her," Stiles said, shifting in his chair. 

Castiel closed the album with a sigh and stood. The room went dark, the flashes of lightning outside intensifying, then two huge shadows spread across the walls, almost wrapping around the whole room. Wings. The shadows were in the shape of wings. 

Castiel's eyes glowed brighter and brighter until the distinct blue colour was overpowered by pure white light.

Allison's mouth dropped open.

"Thanks, Cas!" Stiles gave the angel thumbs up.

Castiel nodded and the lights turned back on, the shadows receding back into the angel.

Allison looked like she was deciding to either bolt or attack. She eventually just settled for slowly sitting down in the closest chair and not so subtly staring at Castiel through narrowed eyes. "I'm not really buying, flashy light show aside," she said.

"You're not the first," Sam said as he walked into the room, a salad in hand.

"And no one's asking you to believe it. Just know he's here to help," Stiles replied. 

Allison frowned.

"Boyd's here," Isaac announced a few seconds before his fellow beta opened the door.

Boyd walked in and nodded to the group, taking the seat next to Isaac. "Which one of them is the angel?" he asked bluntly, his eyes moving between Sam and Castiel.

"Do I need to re-demonstrate?" Castiel said, looking to Sam.

"Nah, Cas. You're good," Stiles answered.

Castiel nodded and settled back down in his seat.

"So, the twins came around for round two," Isaac began, eyes casting to Boyd.

Boyd's eyes glowed almost immediately, a growl rumbling in his throat. 

"Easy," Scott ordered, eyes settling on Boyd's and he put a slice of pizza on a plate. "They're gone and we're all fine."

"What about Danny? Has Ethan been messing with him?" Lydia asked.

"Last time Danny checked in, he was locked in his room, shotgun and bullets handy and buried in town records still trying to figure out where the alphas are hiding," Scott supplied, offering Allison a slice of pizza, which she accepted with a smile.

"Okay, just make sure to let him know what happened and to keep checking in regularly," Stiles said. He looked to Sam. "Any theories as to how we might be able to kill these guys without getting ourselves killed in the process? Even with Cas, I don't think we'd all survive a full frontal attack."

Sam sighed and put his salad to the side, sitting down on the arm of the sofa. "A day ago, I would have told you to shoot them all with a silver bullet, but that's not enough for your kind," he replied.

Stiles noticed Sam had darker circles beneath his eyes then yesterday.

"Okay, so we need to brainstorm," Stiles decided. "How do we kill a bunch of super powerful kung-fu trained werewolves?" 

"Do we have to kill them? I mean, isn't there a way to maybe take their power away?" Scott said almost pleadingly. 

Stiles frowned sympathetically at him. "Scott, buddy, you know if there were a cure we wouldn't even be sitting here right now."

"But that was before! We have a freaking angel now! You saw what he did. There has to be another way," he shouted, rising up abruptly. "We already lost Derek and Erica! I don't want to risk anyone else's life."

"Then they need to go. And they're not leaving," Stiles fought, leaping up from his seat and facing Scott. "So we have to make them. And that means they're either going to leave with their tails tucked between their legs or in a body bag. They killed Derek and Erica. And if we just sit here, they'll kill more of us. We have to strike first," he said, reaching to put a hand on Scott's shoulder. 

Scott jerked out of his reach. "Stiles, we can't just go picking off people! That makes us no better than them!"

Stiles winced. 

Castiel stood up and approached the two of them. "I do not have the ability to take away these werewolves' powers. I can help, but I am not the solution."

"Then we find another way!" Scott said, looking to Stiles, his eyes pleading. "Because we are not killers."

Stiles felt sick.

He dropped his eyes and steeled himself, hands curling into fists. "When you find another way, let me know," he said, voice devoid of emotion.

"Stiles..." 

"I don't see another choice. If you figure one out, great. But until then, we're gonna do what we have to." Stiles turned away before he said something he would regret.

"I won't be a part of this."

"Then get out." Stiles turned, keeping his face cold. 

Everyone watched with wide eyes as Scott grabbed his jacket. He wrenched open the door, walked out of it without looking back and slammed it so hard the room shook.

Isaac got up, going after Scott, while everyone else remained dumbfounded and silent.

-§-

Talking in Purgatory could get you killed. 

Dean didn't need Benny to tell him that. They walked steadily for about three hours before Dean took a break, sitting down beside the river and rest his aching feet.

"Forgot how much footwork was needed down here," he joked.

Benny rolled his eyes with a smile. "You going to be complaining the whole time?"

Dean snorted. "Just got to get my sea legs back, I'll be Mr. Killzone in no time."

Benny laughed and Dean shoved him with a grin.

The thing Dean missed about Purgatory was the simplicity of it. It was messy, but uncomplicated. All that mattered was weapon in his hand and the clothes on his back. Dean didn't have to worry about anyone but himself down here and it was like a thousand tons had been lifted off his chest.

He'd been in charge of Sam since the day their mother died, molded to shadow his brother like a body guard and be the soldier his father wanted: ruthless, merciless and always putting Sam first. He never resented his brother for it, he couldn't. It just wasn't in his programming.

But sometimes Dean saw just how much Sam was like him. He was the one who worried enough about Dean for the both of them, had his back, and looked out for him. Dean always knew he'd go out protecting Sammy, but he never knew that Sam would be there to do the same thing.

The self sacrificing Winchesters they were.

Until last year.

Dean was pulled from his thoughts when Benny grabbed his shoulder and squeezed, their old signal for approaching trouble. Dean turned around slowly, his back facing Benny's, blade raised.

"You see anything?" Benny hissed, keeping his eyes on the forest in front of him.

Dean remained silent. A shadow moved slowly forward, growls rumbling from it, and soon a second joined it. They stalked slowly through the trees, almost gliding over the ground. Dean could smell the heady scent of blood from where he stood.

Two arachnes stepped into the light, bodies smothered in blood, old and new. They hissed, baring their blunt stained teeth and crouched, ready to spring. 

"Arachnes!" Dean whispered back, keeping his body still as possible. 

"How many?" Benny asked.

Dean felt his muscles tense against his back.

"Two. And they look like they've tag teamed before."

"Tell me when."

Dean readied himself, fingers tensing and eyes tracking their every movement. 

"Three..." 

Benny slipped his blade out of its sheath. 

"Two...o-"

A vicious snarl erupted from behind the arachnes, making them whip around with startled hisses. 

Dean saw two bright glowing golden eyes in the shadows, a flash of teeth, and then what looked like a girl lunged from the bushes, snarling as she tackled one of the arachnes. It let out a blood-curdling screech, very close to a humans, that turned into a gurgle. Its blunt human nails stood no chance against her claws.

She ripped and shredded until it was nothing but mush in her grasp. She even ripped off its head for good measure. The second arachne let out a howl of outrage, launching itself at the girl.

She met it head on, claws going straight into its chest, its heart appearing a second later, before decapitating it as well. 

Its body fell to the ground with a thud.

Dean stood, shocked, with his blade still raised. Benny stood motionless at his shoulder, staring.

The girl slowly turned, clothes bathed with blood, and Dean got a good look at her face. She was a werewolf, just like the ones back at Beacon Hills. Same ridged forehead and glowing golden eyes.

"Wow uh thanks, I guess, for...that," Dean pointed towards the arachnes.

The girl was frozen for a second, distracted by his voice, but she recovered quickly with a snarl and started to advance, baring her fangs. 

Guess she wasn't a friendly werewolf.

Benny reacted first, rushing forward and knocking her to her feet with a quick swipe, whipping around and hissing at her, fangs stretching over his teeth. She seemed startled by this but didn't falter. She rolled onto her feet, graceful as a cat, and gripped him back the jacket, flinging him into the nearest tree.

He hit hard, the bark splintering beneath the impact, and he hit the ground momentarily stunned.

Dean cursed and ran at her.

She whipped around with a flurry of blonde curls and snarled, racing forward to meet him. They collided heavily but she was stronger and Dean ended up pinned to the dirt. He struggled beneath her, look sideways to see his blade a few feet away, and he reached for it just as she raised her hand in the air for one final blow.

She hesitated.

Dean remained frozen, didn't breathe, as he watched her. Slowly her face began to change and the hair that was once there receded, her eyes returning to a very human light brown. She reached forward slowly and picked up something that was resting on Dean's chest.

It was the photograph of Derek that Stiles had given him. It must have slipped out of his pocket when he hit the ground.

The girl stood up suddenly, clutching the picture. She stared at it, everything that made her a monster disappearing so Dean could see the teenager. She couldn't be more than seventeen. 

"Why do you have this?" she asked. 

"You seen him before?" Dean reacted, getting to his feet, eyes flickering over to his blade.

"He-- he's my alpha."

Dean looked over at Benny, before remembering what Stiles said. "Erica?"

"Yeah." She smiled, relief flooding over here. "I knew he'd figure something out. I never should have left. I know that. Boyd, he's okay still, right? He's with Derek? He's safe?" She asked, her eyes welling with tears.

"I met Boyd. He's safe," Dean answered, slowly stepping towards her. He couldn't understand why she was so happy.

Her smile grew. She was so overwhelmed. Dean could see her shaking.

"Okay. How do I go home? I just want to go home."

Dean froze, unable to tell her the truth. Benny stepped past him, putting a hand on Erica's shoulder as he tilted his head to her.

"Darlin', you're dead."

"What? No. I'm breathing."

"This is where people, things, like us go after they die."

Erica stepped back, every ounce of hope shattered. She shook her head. "No. No. I don't know where I am. But he's-" she pointed to the photograph of Derek, "he's looking for me."

"He's dead too," Benny explained.

That seemed to hurt her more. She looked at Dean, her eyes begging him for another answer. She didn't want to believe any of this.

"I'm sorry," Dean said.

She wrenched away from Benny, the photo still clutched in her hand. "No! I'm not dead! I was with them and it hurt all the time but then I woke up and I was in the forest! I thought they set me free, I thought they let me go!" she choked, tears running down her face.

Dean winced and looked away. 

She remained choked up for a moment, disbelieving eyes staring at the photograph, before her features became cold, a mask slipping over her face. She looked up at Dean, golden rings around her eyes.

"Fine, if I'm dead and this is a place for...things like me, why are you here?" she asked Dean. "And how do you know my pack?" 

"My name is Dean, this is Benny. I was sent here to rescue Derek and bring him back. The alpha pack is still targeting your pack, they need Derek back," Dean said and picked up his blade and sheathing it.

"Then that means you can take me back! You can bring me home with Derek?" she asked, rushing forward and gripping his arm.

"I'm afraid it's a one person ticket, sweetheart," Benny said frowning sympathetically. 

Erica looked like Benny had just slapped her. It took a few second to pull herself together but she managed to swallow her tears and took a deep breath. 

"I want to help," she said, voice only trembling a bit. She held her chin high and stared Dean right in the eyes, waiting for him to answer.

"Okay," Dean said.

-

They decided to rest for the night, get their stories straight as they recovered from the day's events, tell Erica everything that had happened since she died.

She listened in silence, only nodding occasionally when Dean asked her a question. Different emotions would pass over her face, coming and going so quickly that Dean had trouble deciphering them. Mostly it was pain, disappointment, and sadness. 

When Dean had finished reiterating everything Stiles had told him before he left they lapsed into silence, Erica's eyes fixed on the small fire in between them.

"I can't believe that he's been down here for months and I never found him," she finally said after a few moments.

"Well, to be fair, this is a pretty big place," Dean said.

That didn't bring Erica any comfort. "It doesn't matter. He's my alpha. I should have felt it. I should have-- I should have known."

Dean sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. "Look, I am not going to try and act like I understand your connections and all that but after what you went through, what he went through? I am not surprised you two haven't found each other. I mean this place is overwhelming, it's easy to get lost."

Erica didn't reply, just shook her head and look away, a frown on her face. 

"Last time I was here, I was looking for someone then too. I knew I was looking for him and I was looking hard. It still took me a year to find him. It's not your fault."

"I knew there were others like me here. I came across their scent a few months after I woke up, up north, but I ran. I didn't know them and the last time I went chasing after a pack I didn't know I ended up getting captured and tortured," she said. "Guess I got myself killed too."

"You must have been in werewolf territory, there are a few packs up in that area," Benny said, sparing her from drudging up bad memories.

"Do you think if we went there again you could maybe pick up his trail?" Dean asked.

Erica's eyes snapped to him. "I don't know. I can try."

Dean nodded. "That's all I'm asking."

"We'll leave first thing in the morning. I'll get us to werewolf territory and then you can take over from there. If we are quick, and lucky, we should be able to find Derek before the sun sets," Benny said.

Erica nodded and rested her chin on her knees.

"Okay then, I guess we should all get some rest. I'll take first watch," Dean said, shifting around to get into a comfortable position.

"I can take first watch, I need some time to think. You guys sleep, I'll wake one of you up in a couple hours," Erica replied quietly, eyes slowing traveling to Dean.

The hunter felt a bit hesitant about it but he finally nodded, settling down to sleep. "Okay, night."

Sleep came quicker than Dean thought.

-

The three of them rose bright and early; it was a race against the sun today.

Benny led them steadily through Purgatory. He'd gotten better at avoiding monsters. It was mid day before Benny suddenly turned to Erica.

"This is where you take over, sweetheart," he said.

Erica nodded and moved forward without a word. They followed Erica for about two hours, weaving steadily through the territory, going from one scent trail to another. 

Erica suddenly paused mid-stride and Dean froze, watching her. The werewolf looked to the left, breath caught in her chest, and then she was running, hair flowing out behind her. Dean and Benny took off after her, calling her name. 

They ran after her for a few minutes, weaving through the trees and jumping over logs, overgrowth and boulders, before she came to a halt, a gasp catching in her throat. Dean skidded to a stop, nearly knocking her over in his haste to stop. Benny stilled at his side. 

Dean followed her gaze in front of them and about ten yards ahead stood Derek Hale. He was leaning against a tree, arms crossed, barely holding in a laugh as a young girl fell from the tree. 

A jagged scar ran up the right side of his face that his dark scruff couldn't quite hide, stretching from the bottom of his jaw to the middle of his cheek. He was shirtless, torso slick with sweat and dirt, body rippling with muscles, his jeans ripped and blood crusted. There was another starburst shaped scar on his left breast, right over his heart. He'd had a hell of a tour down here.

Derek looked happy, surprisingly at ease, even with the circumstances. He hadn't even noticed them yet, he was too caught up with whoever the young girl was, offering her a hand up. She took it with a glare but it soon turned into a grin and they both laughed.

Erica let out a whimper, taking a small step forward. Dean grabbed her arm. But Erica couldn't be stopped. She raced through the gap between them, calling out to him. Derek barely had time to react before she threw herself at him. Derek  
caught her easily, stumbling back a few steps. Her body wrapped around him as she began to sob into his neck, clenching his shoulders in her hands.

He just stood their shocked, mouth hanging wide open as his arms wrapped securely around her. The werewolf looked unsure about what to do for a moment, his mouth opening and closing like he wanted to say something but he couldn't get the words out. Finally, he made a noise that sounded like a whine and buried his face in her hair, squeezing her tightly against him.

Her arms wound around his neck and she pulled back to look at him, eyes watery. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry," she gasped out, brining their bodies together again as she buried her face in his shoulder.

"It's okay. I got you, you're safe now," he soothed, running his fingers through her hair.

The young girl with Derek looked just as shocked as he was, her brows furrowing in confusion, then her head snapped to where Dean and Benny were standing and she let out a snarl, eyes glowing gold.

Derek's eyes locked on them and he roared, putting Erica behind him, his claws sliding out.

"No, Derek! It's okay, they are here for you!" Erica said, tugging on her alpha's hand.

"That makes me want to trust them," Derek snapped, remaining tense.

Erica opened her mouth to say something, but she stopped, her eyes locked on Derek's. "Your eyes. They're not red," she said, stepping back in shock. "Why aren't they red?"

Derek let out a slow breath, eyes turning human. He threw a final glance at Dean and Benny, but accepted they weren't a threat.

"I'm not an alpha anymore."

Dean's eyebrows shot up. He did not see that one coming.

"But-" Erica began.

But Derek cut her off with a look. 

Erica was silent for a moment before shaking her head and motioning to Dean and Benny. "Stiles sent them Derek," she said. "They're here to take you home." 

Dean decided this was a good a time as any to introduce himself. He and Benny slowly approached, hands raised.

Derek snarled and crouched, face rippling into animal once more. 

Dean froze. "Whoa, easy there, poodle. I'm not the bad guy."

Derek didn't take kindly to the nickname but he relaxed an inch, teeth still bared. "That's debatable," he growled, eyes traveling over Dean, "Who are you?"

"I'm Dean, this is Benny," Dean replied cautiously.

The young girl growled and Derek silenced her with a snarl. He turned back to them.

"Stiles sent you?" he asked.

Dean didn't miss the way his voice cracked over Stiles' name.

"Yeah. I didn't come for just him though."

"Then why?" 

"Because your pack is barely holding on against the alpha pack. Honestly, if you stay here, I think you'll be seeing more familiar faces." 

Derek looked at the other werewolf, the blue leaving his eyes. "Eva, go home."

Eva growled and shook her head. "And leave you here with a hunter? No way!"

"Eva!" he snapped. 

She left with a growl, taking off into the trees.

"How did she know I was a hunter?" Dean asked.

Derek stared at him.

"We know the type," he said, anger creeping into his tone.

Dean swallowed.

Derek look at the ground, his jaw tensing. "I'm dead, been dead for a while. How is it even possible to bring me back?" Derek asked, allowing Erica to move to his side and tuck herself beneath his arm, bury her face into his neck.

"There is a portal, only humans can go through but there is a ritual I can preform to make sure you go back. Once we get back I take you back to your body and basically put you back in it. You'll be the same as you were before you died, memories and all," Dean replied, walking a few steps closer.

Derek gripped Erica tighter but didn't say anything, just stared at Dean for a few moments. "What about her? My family? Can you bring them back?" he asked. 

Dean frowned. "This only works if there's a body. You're the only one with a full skeleton topside."

Derek looked at Erica. He wanted to ask her what happened, but he chickened out like Dean and Benny both. All he knew is what Stiles told them. That the alphas lured Boyd and Isaac into following Erica's scent. They'd got her hopes up that she was alive only to find her body burning. By the time they got the fire out, there was almost nothing left of her.

"The stuff they did to me... You have to go back. You can't let them do that to anyone else." Erica whispered, her voice rough.

He frowned down at her. "I just got you back, now you want me to leave you again?"

"You didn't leave me. I made a mistake and it wound up being bigger than I thought it would be." Erica forced a smile, it was genuine, but it was still filled with pain. "Besides, I'm clearly better suited for down here than you. I got ten times hotter and you got this." She fingered the scar on his face. "So you're going back." She sniffed, but refused to let herself cry. "Kill that bitch, Kali, so she can suffer down here. There are plenty of monsters that would rip off those stupid toe claws and, if they don't do it, I will."

There was a loud howl. Gorilla wolves were storming through the area. 

"If you want to keep your girl out of another fight, we should go."

Derek nodded, hand sliding to Erica's shoulder as he led them away.

"Where are we going?" Erica asked.

"There's safety in numbers," Derek answered. "It's how my family survived down here."

-§-

Derek was a mess of emotions on the walk back to his family. Unlike usual, it was more than just guilt. Guilt was an underlying emotion that constantly burned within Derek, every day, every hour, every minute. He died feeling guilty. 

He wanted to leave the hunter and vampire behind. He didn't want to bring a hunter anywhere near his family. But they had brought Erica to him. They had given him a chance to keep her safe. The least he could do was offer them a safe night's sleep.

He glanced over at Erica and she smiled at him. She didn't blame him and Derek couldn't understand why. If he had done his job, if he had been a better alpha, Boyd and Erica would have never left. They would have never been captured and she would have never been killed.

He looked over his shoulder, Dean and Benny were still there. Benny walked like Purgatory was his backyard. Derek had become accustomed to life down here since he died, but Benny was at ease. He wasn't smiling, but he might as well have. 

Derek couldn't get a good read on Dean. This was a hunter that seemed to have total trust in a vampire. It didn't make sense. Dean was coiled to spring and ready if Derek tried anything.

Part of Derek wanted to take him up on the challenge.

The other part of him reminded him that it was those kinds of actions that got him killed.

Sick of silence, Erica filled the void. She had been alone so long that Derek couldn't blame her. Erica told him about what she had gone through, skipping the details she didn't want to relive. It hadn't been easy for her and Derek regretted that he hadn't looked harder.

"I just assumed since I didn't know the scent there was no way you could be there, so I moved on," she said, concluding her story as Derek helped her over a fallen log.

"I looked for you too," Derek responded. "After I figured out I was dead, I had a feeling you were down here; I just didn't want to believe it."

Erica squeezed his hand. "It's okay, Derek. I figured things out. You taught me well. I'd never ask you to leave your family to find me. I walked out on you and took Boyd with me." Erica swallowed. She missed Boyd. Derek could feel how much he longed for him. "You got him back, right?"

"Yeah. But he never stopped looking for you. He missed you the whole time I was alive and I bet you he still does. He never said it but I could feel it. Isaac and Scott too."

"I miss him too," she admitted.

The newly renewed silence lasted all of two seconds before the hunter cleared his throat.

"So, Derek, how's Purgatory been treatin' you?" Dean started conversationally.

Derek stopped momentarily and turned around to glare at him. What kind of answer could the hunter possibly expect? That Derek wished he could summer here? Or maybe that Derek was hoping winter brought enough snow to make snowmen. 

He rolled his eyes and kept on walking. Dean wasn't impressed. Derek could feel it, but Derek also didn't care. He'd be happy to leave a hunter down here. They deserved a place like this more than his family. His family hadn't hurt a single person, but they got to spend the rest of eternity living like the cavemen.

"How did you find your family?" Dean asked, not missing a beat. "Awfully big place down here."

Derek knew he wasn't scared of him. He could change that. 

He should change that.

Derek spun, fast enough that Dean's breath caught, but the hunter's instincts honed. 

Derek had expected Dean to walk into every single pound of muscle, but there was still a foot of air between them. Benny chuckled, his southern accent presenting itself and put a hand to both their chests to separate them.

"Easy now, boys. There ain't no bad guys here." He stood with Dean, hand resting on the hunter's shoulder until he calmed. "Why don't you two try complimenting each other?"

Dean laughed. "What? I'm supposed to say I like a man in tight jeans?"

"I'm looking for something nicer from you than 'poodle'." 

Dean rolled his eyes. "What I know is there's a cheeseburger sitting topside with my name on it. And he's wasting my time."

"Then why don't you just go back?" Derek spat, feeling his wolf rise to the surface. "I didn't ask to be saved!"

"Well I didn't ask to get my ass sent down here to save the likes of you but here I am, doing it anyway, to help your pack!" Dean snarled right back, poking his finger in the center of Derek's chest.

Derek grabbed Dean's wrist and squeezed, feeling the bones creak beneath his fingers. "Then leave," he growled, eyes bleeding blue.

Dean hissed unable to yank his wrist away. "Why can't you just be grateful and stop acting like an asshole!" he spit.

Derek released him, his lips twisting into a bitter smirk. "I guess Stiles didn't say much about me. I am an asshole," he said darkly then turned around and walked away, needing a minute to calm down.

Derek took a few steady breaths. It was harder to be human down here. When everything was a monster, it was so tempting to join in. But Erica shouldn't have to see him like that. He had hardly scratched the surface of his power, but it been a while since he had to control it. He usually could just kill whatever was pissing him off.

"Cas had to have gotten this wrong. His betas are better off," Dean said to Benny.

Erica smacked the back of Dean's head, startling the hunter. "You have no idea what we were dealing with before he showed up. He made me more than I ever could have been on my own," Erica defended boldly. "Derek's a good guy."

Dean rolled his eyes. "Let me guess, he's a real teddy bear once you get to know him?" 

"No. He's an asshole," Erica answered bluntly. "But he doesn't mean to be."

"I don't get it." 

Erica sighed heavily. "He's lost a lot of people. You're not just asking him to go back. You're asking him leave me and his family down here. He's mad that he's the one getting the easy way out. He doesn't think he deserves to be saved," she said.

Derek pretended not to hear. Erica had it wrong. Derek didn't think he didn't deserve to be saved. 

He knew he didn't.

-  
Eva was the first one to greet him when he returned. It looked like she had been pacing around since she got back, claws flexing in and out. The second he came into sight she breathed out a sigh of relief and hugged him, rumbling happily as he kissed her forehead. 

She stepped back when she heard someone clear his or her throat behind her. His mother stood there, arms crossed, eyes on Dean.

"You brought a hunter here?" she asked, eyebrow rising as she looked to Derek.

Dean opened his mouth to speak, but Benny shook his head and Dean remained silent, trusting his judgement.

Derek released Erica and turned to her. "Stay here, I'll be right back," he said, gently squeezing her shoulder before turning to face his mother.

The rest of the pack was beginning to gather, eyes glowing and teeth shifting into fangs. His father stood in front of them. His eyes were fixed on Derek, but Derek didn't meet his gaze. He walked towards his mother instead.

"I need to speak to you and Dad," he said quietly. "Privately."

She nodded, face growing concerned. "Laura, watch them," she said, "Luke," she motioned for Derek's father to follow them.

Laura threw him a confused look as they passed but Derek mouthed they would talk later. She frowned but nodded, turning her eyes back onto the others. He began to leave with his parents, when he sensed a change in Dean. Derek looked back to see Dean giving Laura a look he did not approve of. Worse, Laura was smiling back.

"No," Derek said.

"What?" Dean reacted, arms rising at his sides.

"That's my sister," Derek clarified.

"So?" Laura responded. "He's cute."

Dean's smile grew and Derek moved to put an end to things, but his father cut him off, encouraging him to follow his mother. He gave a final warning glare to Dean, but it didn't seem to do anything. Dean was already showing off his blade and telling her stories about the scars he had.

His mother walked to the edge of camp before stopping. She turned to face Derek, hands on her hips. 

"Start talking," she said, concerned but somehow not furious. 

His father settled at her right side, silent.

Derek winced and looked at the ground, hands curling into fists. "Erica was one of my betas. She died before I did. It was my fault. She found me. All this time later and she found me. The others were with her. The hunter, Dean, says that he can-" Derek couldn't believe he was about to say what he was about to say; it still sounded crazy and impossible. "He's here to take me back, take me back to my pack," he said quietly, casting a glance back at Erica. "My betas."

His mother's hand held his chin, turning his face towards her with a frown on her face. "And how can he do that?"

Derek ground his jaw, squeezing his eyes shut. "He says there's a portal that he can take me through and put me back in my body. He says I will be the same as I was before," he replied.

"And you trust him?" his father asked, placing a hand on Derek's shoulder. 

"No. I don't know."

His mother's frown deepened. "And you want to go back?"

"They need me, if I don't go back they'll die," he replied, voice cracking. 

The last thing he wanted was to lose his family again, to leave them down here in the wasteland to fend for themselves while he got to go home. He didn't know how to leave his family. He had been without them for six years and in six months he had been down here. He had been happy. Life wasn't easy, but he got to patrol their boarders with his cousins, wrestle with his sisters and fall asleep to the sound of his parents' heartbeats.

His mother stroked his jaw, pulling him out of his headspace. She smiled, happy and proud, but tears were in her eyes. 

"I love you. We all do. Only you can decide where you want to be or where you should be. You don't have to go, but don't stay for us. We are fine. We will miss you, but you need to think of yourself." She drew her son into her arms, holding him tightly. "Whatever you choose, know that we will always love you," she murmured.

Derek sighed and pulled away. "There is a catch. If I go back, if I somehow succeed, if I can kill them, the alpha pack will be down here, with you."

His mother smiled, rubbing his cheekbone. "Derek, we can hold our own. If they come near us, they will get what they deserve," she said and Derek could see the red seeping into her eyes.

His father nodded, arms crossed and equally as confident. "Been a while since we got some real action."

Derek smiled, undeniably grateful for the family he had, before he remembered there was more than just his family down here. "I have one favor to ask," he said, looking back at Erica.

Erica was swapping war stories with a couple of his cousins, demonstrating some of the punches she threw and using her hands to describe how big some of her attackers were.

"She's tough, but she shouldn't be alone down here. It's my fault that she's here in the first place," Derek explained.

His mother looked over, watching the overzealous reaction of everyone listening to Erica. Erica was beaming at the attention as one of Derek's cousins high fived her. 

"I think she's already been accepted," she replied.

Derek turned back to his mother, relief washing over him. "Thank you."

-

Dean was the last one awake that night, poking the fire with a stick restlessly as he looked over all the sleeping wolves around him, all but one he noticed.

Derek was staring at him through half closed eyes from his place next to his sisters, the fire light making his irises glow blue.

Dean looked back at the fire.

He heard shifting a few seconds later and Derek appeared across the fire, his eyes narrowing before he sat down, silent.

"My family is dead too, you know," Dean said quietly, rubbing the back of his neck. "A demon that took them, my mom first. Pinned her to the ceiling and slashed her stomach open before setting her on fire and burning our house down. Nearly got my baby brother to. My dad died for the same demon twenty years later to save my sorry ass. I didn't ask to be saved. Hell, I didn't want to be saved, but it happened. So I get the guilt. It doesn't go away. I tried to make it right by giving up my life for my little brother. I went to Hell," Dean had to pause for a moment to swallow down the lump in his throat. "I spent ten years cutting people up and still wound up back topside.

"Life ain't fair and neither is death. It wasn't fair that your family died, that Erica died; I'd take any of these kids back long before I picked you. And it ain't fair that you're the one that gets to live. But I got a body that needs your soul, a kid that needs his boyfriend and a pack that needs its alpha."

"I'm not an alpha anymore, remember!" Derek growled, glaring at Dean with his vibrant blue eyes to prove his point.

"No, but you are still responsible for them! You created them. You sentenced them to die and wind up here. Not to mention the humans that got pulled into this. You got so many people risking their lives for you and you ain't even alive. So loosen those pants and grow a pair. Get your ass back in the fight," Dean barked, staring at Derek in disbelief.

"You think I'm staying because I'm a coward? They were supposed to be fine without me. I failed them. More than once. I was the best of a bad situation. The alphas were supposed to leave after I died."

"But they didn't."

"Yeah. And now I'm stuck choosing between two packs. The one I created and the one that created me. How do you choose between family and pack?"

Dean shrugged. "From what I've heard, there ain't much of a difference."

Derek looked at him in shock.

Dean met his gaze. "Look, I am not going to tell you what's right, because, honestly, what's right is to leave you here to die and let the rest of your pack join you. They deserve to be about as much as the rest of your family. You want to save them, you come with me. Otherwise, you ain't going to have to choose between packs. They'll both be here. Well, most of them. You lot don't make packs out of werewolves alone. You'll see your family again some day, but this is your only chance to save your pack, including Stiles."

Derek was silent for a long time after that, his eyes fixed on the fire again.

Just when Dean was about to give up Derek finally spoke.

"When do we leave?"

-§-

Stiles didn't sleep at all that night. He tossed and turned endlessly in his bed. At about 3AM, he kicked off the sheets and gave up. He opened his laptop and started messing around on the internet. He played World Of Warcraft until his eyes started burning.

The whole argument with Scott left his stomach churning and his brain uable to switch off. It kept running through other possible scenarios, others things he could have said, things he could have done to fix it. But Stiles couldn't bring himself to regret what happened. Everything he'd said was true. He truly did believe the alpha pack needed to pay for what they'd done, especially Deucalion. But Scott hated bloodshed. He would avoid it at all costs, whereas Stiles would protect the people he loved at all costs.

Stiles was willing to take that extra step and Scott just wasn't.

The sun was beginning to rise as he shut the computer and rolled out of bed, shirt rucked up when he stretched his arms over his head. Once he was thoroughly awake, he changed clothes and made his way downstairs. 

He pushed Scott out of his mind for now. Melisa had texted Stiles, letting him know he was safe with Isaac at home. 

Everyone was sprawled out in the living room. Lydia was asleep on the couch, Allison was curled up in the armchair, and Boyd was spread out on the floor. Sam was still asleep upstairs in the guestroom and Stiles figured that Castiel was up there as well 'watching over him' as the angel liked to put it.

The smell of already brewed coffee got his attention, drawing Stiles into the kitchen. Coffee sounded amazing. His father was helping himself to a quick breakfast, working through a mug of coffee.

Stiles froze in the doorway, unsure of what to do.

"Morning," his dad eventually said, before beginning to munch on a bagel.

Stiles could see dark circles beneath his red-rimmed eyes. He had a long night too.

"Uh, morning," Stiles replied, slowly walking over the fridge, turned his back on his Dad to open it and pull out some bacon.

"You're up earlier than usual," the sheriff observed, turning to top off his own mug. "Coffee?

"Uh, sure, thanks," Stiles answered, searching through the cabinets for the frying pan. "I wasn't able to sleep. Got a lot on my mind." 

"Like Derek?" 

Stiles choked on his coffee, nearly hacking up a lung as coughed.

"What do you mean?" he croaked after a few seconds, eyes watering when he looked at his Dad.

"Stiles, I'm not blind," the sheriff replied, taking a slow sip of his coffee and staring at Stiles over the rim.

Stiles wished the ground would open up and swallow him. He so did not want to have this conversation with his Dad right now.

Or ever.

"Yeah, about that..."

The sheriff raised his hand. "Stiles, you don't have to explain yourself to me. I love you no matter what. Besides, you and Derek is a whole lot easier to wrap my head around than werewolves. Not gonna lie. I wish you picked a boy that was, well, a boy. You know. Your age. Human. Maybe one I haven't arrested or investigated multiple times. But I understand," he said, setting his mug down on the table. "And I just want you to be happy."

Stiles was pretty sure his mouth was hanging open. That definitely didn't go the way he'd imagined it would. 

"So you're not mad?"

The sheriff snorted. "Why would I be mad?"

Stiles shrugged. "I don't know. I thought you would have been mad I kept this all from you, including how I felt about Derek."

The sheriff sighed and looked out the kitchen window. "I haven't really been all that involved with your life for a long time. Ever since your mother, you just kind of grew up and didn't really need me anymore. You took on so much. You took care of me for Christ sake. It shouldn't surprise me that you'd protect me. Seventeen and you're already a better man than me."

Stiles stood silently, but there was only one way for a Stilinski to resolve things. He stepped forward, wrapping his arms around his father and squeezing him tightly. He felt his dad smile as he wrapped his arms around Stiles, holding him for a few moments. 

"The whole thing with Derek yesterday, about bringing him back, I'm sorry I upset you," Stiles said quietly against his father's shoulder.

The sheriff shook his head. "I shouldn't have reacted the way I did. I thought about it a long time last night, and after an interesting run-in with your angel friend, I believe you. It's just- I'm still testing the waters of this world of yours. I still need some time to absorb certain things, especially things like that, with your mother and all," he replied quietly, eyes growing a little sad.

Stiles smiled shakily. "I love you, Dad."

"I love you too, son," his dad said, smiling proudly. "And I'm so proud of you."

They broke apart and shared a smile and that was that.

Stiles began frying bacon and flipping pancakes, having made an impressive pile by the time Boyd floated in, grunting a greeting to the sheriff before nearly downing the whole pot of coffee, letting out a satisfied groan.

"Rise and shine ladies! Chow time!" Stiles shouted.

It was only a few minutes later when Allison and Lydia stumbled in, clothes wrinkled and hair sticking out in all different directions. 

Stiles handed them each a plate stacked with food and shooed them towards the dining room so everyone could have a spot to sit. He joined them moments later, syrup in hand. They ate quietly. Everyone needing time for coffee and sugar to wake up their brains. By the time Sam came down the stairs with Castiel hot on his heels, they were laughing.

Sam stumbled a bit on the last step, but Castiel easily steadied him, frowning in concern, but he didn't say anything. Sam hid his gratitude, hoping people didn't notice, but the dining room was silent as he walked in. 

"Morning everyone," he yawned, sitting down at the table.

The sheriff got him a plate of food and a cup of coffee. Sam smiled in thanks and brought the coffee to his lips, greedily breathing it in.

Castiel kindly declined his food, but he did accept a cup of coffee.

A phone went off and Lydia quickly pulled out hers, tapped the screen. She took in a surprised breath. "I just got a text from Danny. He thinks he knows where the alpha pack are hiding out," she announced, eyes locking on Stiles.

Stiles froze. Everyone's eyes were on him.

"So, do we go?" Allison asked, looking back and forth between Lydia and Stiles.

Stiles swallowed and set his fork down slowly, mulling it over. "Yeah. Finish eating. We leave in five," he said calmly even though on the inside his blood was boiling.

They were so close. But could they do this without Derek?

"Shouldn't we wait for Dean to bring Derek back? I mean we're missing half our muscle."

Allison glared at her.

"It's true," Lydia insisted. "No matter how you look at it, it's a bad idea. They're five alphas, four werewolves, either way. They're a tough bunch. We are three humans, four if we get Danny, but Sam can barely stand, two werewolves, if we get Isaac, because Scott won't help us, and an angel. And I don't see how that's going to end well."

"I know, but this might be our only chance. We will just scope out the place first and then regroup for the attack plan if we have to. Besides, we have an angel now," Stiles replied looking to Castiel. "Angel beats werewolf."

"You overestimate what I can do," Castiel said, meeting Stiles' gaze.

"You took out the twins with one finger. How can you not be helpful?" Stiles retorted.

"I temporarily disabled them. I didn't kill them. Which is clearly your desired outcome."

"You can kill demons! How are werewolves that much harder?"

"Demons are an entirely different species, boy. I am not all powerful," Castiel growled, growing frustrated.

"Fine, we'll discuss this later. For now, we are just going to take a look. We don't even know if it's even legit. Boyd, I want you here with my dad. Sam, Cas, you stay here too. I'll take Allison and Lydia with me to get Danny," he said, rising from his seat.

"Them? You're taking them? A werewolf, an angel and an experienced hunter and you're taking two girls?" Sam interjected. 

Allison and Lydia both glared at him.

"No offense," Sam responded, shifting in his seat.

Stiles smiled. "Allison is lethal with a bow and arrow and Lydia, well, be careful what you drink around her. And someone's got to watch the house." 

Lydia stood, eyes glancing at Sam's coffee, before going to get ready with Allison. Sam was about to go back to his coffee, but hesitated. He sniffed the coffee, looking for any strange scents but didn't notice one. Stiles laughed, clapping a hand on Sam's shoulder.

"Good. You're learning." He stole a sip of Sam's coffee to prove it was safe, before heading out the front door with the girls. 

-

Danny was out the front door and in the car before Stiles even had a chance to stop, laptop bag in hand and a pistol clipped to his hip.

"Whoa! Since when are you packing heat?" Stiles asked, eyeing the sidearm.

Danny looked at him. "My boyfriend is a werewolf that's killed people. Having a gun is a rational response," he replied shortly, hurt laced in his voice.

Allison snorted in the backseat, shifting her crossbow to give Danny more room.

"Fair enough," Stiles accepted, driving off. "Where am I going?"

Danny leant between the front seats, directing Stiles out of town. 

They pulled up in front of a rundown vacation cabin on the edge of the preserve with a lake glimmering about twenty feet away. There wasn't a road for at least five miles and no other neighboring houses, just trees.

"This is it? Really? Not what I pictured..." Stiles sighed, slumping in his seat.

"Well, when you are trying to keep a low profile it's practical," Lydia said, peeking at the house over Stiles' shoulder.

"Everything points to here," he sighed, running his fingers through his hair.

"Well, let's scope it out," Allison said, opening her door.

"Wait! I see something!" Stiles hissed, lunging forward in his seat, chest pressed against the steering wheel.

One of the windows was slowly being opened, the curtains being drawn away. They all watched, no one willing to breathe as they waited. Deucalion came into view, his eerie red eyes finding somehow Stiles'. Stiles couldn't move a blind man was looking him in the eye from twenty feet away. Deucalion raised a hand, lips curling into a smile, and waved.

Instinct took over after that. His foot slammed down on the gas and they sped away. 

-§-

Derek ran with his family for the last time that morning. It made his heart ache in his chest with every step, the feeling of family, of pack, around him and knowing that by the end of the day he would have lost them all. 

Again.

They ran until they were exhausted, none of them wanting to quit, but eventually they had to turn back, the sun rising above the trees.

Dean and Benny were awake and waiting when they returned.

"We have to go," Dean insisted as Derek walked up.

Derek sighed, still breathing hard from the run. He ran his fingers through his hair. "Yeah, I know."

Dean nodded and took a step back. "We'll be over there," Dean said, giving Derek space to make his goodbyes.

He turned to face his mother. His father and Laura stood behind her. Erica was close, but couldn't bring herself to get between Derek and his family.

Derek swallowed. He tried to think of the things he wished he had a chance to say the last time he lost his family, but this wasn't the same. There was so much he wanted to say, but nothing that came to his mouth was enough. 

His mother smiled, stroking his face like she did when he was a child. "We're not going anywhere. So go. Live. I don't want you back here until you're older than me."

He smiled and his mother pulled him close, hugging him tightly. He had taken these moments for granted over the past months. Derek buried his face in his mother's neck, breathing in her scent and memorizing it. Every instinct told him to stay, but Derek forced himself back.

His father stepped forward, hauling Derek into a hug. It was rougher than his mother's, a hand clapping hard over his back as he got pulled even closer. "I'm proud of you son. You're doing a great thing."

Derek felt his eyes burn as he squeezed his father harder, his chest aching. "Be careful," he whispered.

Luke nodded against his shoulder. "Hales are strong. We'll be fine."

He pat Derek on the shoulder then step back.

Derek looked over to his sister, tears already running down her face, and he opened his arms. She let out a small whimper and ran into them, burying her face in his chest. 

"I'm going to miss you so much, Der. Take care of yourself, okay?" she said, looking up at him.

Derek kissed her forehead and nodded. "I promise."

Laura smiled, her lips trembling, and pulled away, walking into the comfort of their mother's arms. They all watched as Erica slowly stepped forward.

"Well, I guess this is it. Superman returns to earth."

Derek smiled fondly at her.

"I want you to hug everyone when you get back, and I mean everyone. Tell them I said hi, tell Boyd I miss him and that I love him." She started crying, her body shaking as she tried to keep control, but that wasn't happening.

Derek snapped, pulling Erica into his arms, curling his fingers in her hair as he squeezed her tightly against him. "I'm so sorry."

Erica just squeezed him tighter, shaking her head. "Don't be sorry. You gave me some much. It was all worth it. Every moment. You made me powerful and beautiful and I could always count on you. I didn't start living until I met you so don't you ever blame yourself for my mistake. I'd go back and do it all again. Well, not the running away. I should have stuck it out with you. I trusted you and I don't know why I stopped."

Derek buried his face in her hair when the first of his own tears began to fall, his heart beating painfully hard inside his chest. "I'm going to miss you. Be careful down here."

Erica sniffed, pulling back to look him in the eyes. "Only if you promise to be careful up there, and use the stairs. You have to learn, because there's this new invention called an escalator. And if you don't figure out stairs fast enough, escalators are going to be the death of you," she teased, shoving him playfully in the shoulder.

Derek cracked a grin. "Stairs are for wimps. And escalators? Not my thing. Stairs should not move. Escalators are evil."

Erica smiled one last time before stepping back to stand beside his family. And he saw just how many people he was walking away from. It hurt more than any wound he'd ever received, cutting him deep. It was like he bled out until there was nothing left, but he knew he had to go.

So, with one last smile, he turned and walked over to Dean and Benny, leaving his family behind him. He felt their stares like fire on his back, but he couldn't turn around. 

Dean offered him a sympathetic smile and Benny led the way. Derek went quietly, trying to bury the pain, but he couldn't. He struggled to catch his breath, feeling like the world was crashing down around him.

He knew they were out of sight when his family, Erica included, began howling. It was the Hales' final goodbye. It was meant to be comforting, but Derek felt like someone just stabbed him in the heart.

-

They settled down to sleep after the day's journey, the moon was high when they finally laid their weary bodies down to rest, the night quiet for once.

The silence made Dean nervous, but he was too exhausted to worry about it. He was asleep the moment his eyes closed.

But his rest was cut short.

Dean felt a blade pressed to his throat. To wake up with a knife to his throat was not something new for Dean.

It should bother him. But it doesn't.

He took his time reacting, pretending not to notice the weapon, before he was ready. Dean grabbed the wrist of his attacker, twisting it so hard he heard bone crunch. A screech filled his ears and Dean's eyes snapped open, fixing on the leviathan standing over him.

"Hey, honey bee. You miss me?" 

Benny threw the leviathan into the trees, giving Dean enough time to get to his feet. A second leviathan tackled Benny, but Dean was ready. He cut off its head and pulled Benny back up. Dean looked around for Derek, but the area was quiet.

"Where's Balto?" Dean asked, turning to watch Benny stab a leviathan in the face.

Benny kicked the monster to the ground and Dean finished the job, leaving another leviathan without its head.

"He's been gone since early this morning."

"What do you mean gone?" 

But Benny didn't get a chance to offer. A pair of leviathans teamed up, ramming into them both and sending them both rolling right into the river. Benny managed to get his feet beneath him before the water got deep, but Dean wasn't as fast. His leviathan forced Dean deeper, sinking beneath the water with every intention to bring Dean with him.

Dean fought to get free, but every offensive move put him below the surface. He stole a breath, hearing Benny calling out to him. Benny was trying to him, but the vamp was fighting with four leviathans on his own. 

Dean got yanked underwater and pinned to the bottom of the river. He tried to get free, but his punches were next to useless under water. His vision started to blur, when the pressure suddenly left his chest and he was hauled back to the surface. Dean gasped, greedily sucking air into his lungs. 

Derek got him to land, face fully shifted with his fangs bared. He left Dean to deal the water trapped in his lungs. The werewolf worked in perfect tandem with Benny to finish off the other monsters.

Dean hacked up water until his stomach ached and air finally made it to his lungs. Once the area was clear, Benny checked on Dean, slapping his back hard enough Dean thought he might cough out one of his lungs all together. 

"You good, brother?"

"Been better," Dean confessed.

Benny extended a hand down to Dean and Dean took it, letting the vampire put him back on his feet. Derek dunked his hands into the water, quickly ridding himself of any evidence of what he'd just done.

Dean watched the monster side of Derek slowly disappear as he calmed down, claws receding and extra hair vanishing as if it was never there. His teeth remained the longest though; peeking out over his lips.

Dean went to Derek. He looked Derek in the eye when he turned around, water dripping from his fingertips as blood was only a moment ago.

"I owe you one," he said.

"Not really. You're here saving me, aren't you?"

"Then you gonna tell me where you went?"

"Needed to get away from your snoring."

"I do not snore."

"I can hear a pin drop a block away. You don't wanna know how far I had to go to get a couple hours' sleep."

"You two done complaining? Portal's awaitin'," Benny said, already walking on.

-

Turned out that pretty much every leviathan in Purgatory was basically guarding the portal home.

It took two hours to make it through the last stretch. Dean, Benny and Derek had slashed through more monsters than they could count. It took a team of three to get Derek down, breaking his leg before Dean and Benny could get to him. The werewolf howled in pain. Dean pulled Derek's arm over his shoulder, forcing him onwards. He could hear Derek's body fixing itself with inhuman speed. 

It wasn't long until Derek could move on his own again. The leviathans suddenly stopped coming, no doubt preparing for the ultimate attack.

"Do it now!" Benny ordered, tossing Dean his knife.

"You ready?" Dean asked, eyes flickering up to Derek as he positioned the blade over his arm, ready to slice the skin.

Derek took a deep breath and nodded.

"Anima. Corpori. Ferit corpus totem reurgent!"

Derek's form began to flicker and then totally dissolve as his soul crawled beneath Derek's skin, implanting itself there until it was to be released. Dean's skin glowed a bright red, Derek's energy hot beneath his skin. 

Dean winced and quickly wrapped up his arm, turning to Benny.

"Guess its goodbye for good this time," Dean said quietly, the portal swirling behind him.

Benny laughed. "You never know. Cas might send you back for a skin walker."

Dean smiled, walked forward and wrapped his arms around Benny. "Goodbye, brother."

Benny squeezed him hard, patting his back before he pulled away. "When you get topside do me a favor?" he asked.

Dean nodded. "Anything."

"Give Cas a kiss for me," he grinned deviously.

Dean laughed, eyes burning a bit.

Benny laughed along with him then turned somber, gripping Dean's shoulder. "Be careful, brother."

"You too."

Dean slowly backed away, reaching the opening of the portal just as the first leviathan walked out of the trees.

"Benny, you'll always be the king of purgatory!" he called.

Benny looked over his shoulder, blade raised and teeth out, and he smiled.

"And don't you forget it!"

Dean laughed one last time before the portal sucked him in and he was falling...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> At that concludes chapter 2! I hope you guys like it as much as I do! And we only have one more chapter to go!
> 
> I am sure you noticed how I added some new unsurfaced Hales into the story and I decided, instead of explaining who they were and whatnot, I would just let you guys' imagination run wild in who you thought they were so have fun with that! :)
> 
> Anyway, I am hoping that getting chapter 3 will not take nearly as long as this one because I promise I will have it updated before school starts which is August 21 for me so you will have it before then. But I don't know, this chapter took a really long time to write and edit to make sure it was perfect so chapter 3 might be the same, just hope not.
> 
> Anyway I reall hope you guys enjoyed chapter 2! :)
> 
> P.S: I also made a fanmix for this fic if you would like to listen to it! http://8tracks.com/emmaknic/can-t-find-my-way-home


	3. Let Him Live

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IT IS DONE. Finally, after months of hair pulling and aggrivating edits its finally done and posted. You guys probably hate me for making you wait so long but life just go CRAZY once I started school again. I blame the IB for all my problems. Anyway, major shout out to halewinchester, my alpha, the derek to my stiles, the dean to my sam, who made this possible once again with her amazing edits and info and generall all around awesomeness that is her. So head on over and read her AMAZING superwolf fic Roamers after you finish up here! Without further ado, Save Him, the final chapter!

 

When Stiles woke up, the first thing he noticed was the absolute pounding in his skull, the second was the blackness and third was the three other people. He was still in Allison's car, but he couldn't see out any of the windows, and it's hot.

 

_Really_ hot.

 

Sweat rolled down his face, beading at the back of his neck. He scrambled to get free of his jacket, regretting his actions instantly. Stiles gasped, stabs of pain traveling through his side like knives.

 

Broken ribs, definitely broken.

 

He took a deep breath and closed his eyes, going back in his mind and trying to remember just what happened. He got flashes, his brain screeching in protest as he pushed harder.

 

Alphas. A car accident. Allison screaming in pain. Red eyes. Dirt.

 

_Silence_.

 

"Stiles? Are you awake?" A voice rasped from the back seat.

 

With a wince, he reached up and turned on the reading light above his head. Blessedly, it worked and the car lit up with the dim light.

 

Stiles turned to see Lydia and Allison in the back, Lydia's hand firmly grasping Allison's and her wide green eyes full of fear.

 

"Lydia? Oh my god, are you okay?" he asked, slowly turning his body to face her.

 

Lydia nodded but there were tears in her eyes. "Allison's hurt really bad," she choked, looking down at Allison's arm.

It was snapped in half, the jagged bone broken through the skin, blood running down her hand in thick rivulets and dripping from her fingertips onto the floor mat. Allison wasn't even conscious. Her head was hanging to the side, her eyes closed.

 

Danny coughed, returning to the land of the living a second later and Stiles turned, grasped his shoulder and steadied him as his eyes flew open.

 

"What the hell happened?" Danny slurred.

 

Stiles took a moment to look Danny over, didn't see any other injuries besides a gash on his head, the bleeding already slowing.

 

"I think we were buried."

 

Saying it out loud was worse then thinking it.

 

"Fuck," Danny swore.

 

"Yeah, tell me about it," Stiles replied and buried his face in his hands.

 

"Scott and the others, they'll find us right?" Lydia asked hopefully. "I mean, we aren't going to die. I'm not going to die covered in dirt."

 

Stiles frowned when he realized she was trying to reassure herself.

 

"Yeah, Lydia. They'll find us, don't worry," he smiled and reached for her hand.

 

She took it and Stiles squeezed it when he felt it shake, rubbing his thumb calmingly across the back of her hand.

 

Danny took his cellphone out of his pocket, but didn't like what he saw. "No service, not a single bar," he sighed and chucked it onto the dash.

 

"Wouldn't expect it when we are at least six feet under," Stiles replied gravely as he looked out the windshield at the suffocating mass of dirt and rock.

 

They sat in silence for a moment. Stiles could practically hear their minds working, panic and fear nearly palpable in the atmosphere.

 

Lydia drawing in a surprised breath broke the silence.

 

"Oh my god, Allison!" she gasped and Stiles whipped around.

 

Allison's eyes had snapped open and she was screaming in pain, staring down at her arm in shock, her body convulsing as she tried to claw her way out of the car.

 

She had no idea what was happening.

 

Stiles saw a forming bruise on her left temple and realized she'd hit her head as well. She was delusional and in pain and probably had a really bad concussion on top of everything else.

 

After a few more seconds of fighting with Lydia, she moaned, curling in on her self, and finally passed out from the pain.

 

Lydia was about two seconds from tears. "Stiles, if we don't get out of here soon she's going to die right here."

 

"I know. I'm trying. I'm going to get us out of here."

 

Stiles started poking around, tried to see if he could get his window to roll down just a fraction. Dirt poured into his lap at a shocking speed and Lydia screeched for him to roll it back up.

 

"Sorry! I'm just trying to find a way out!"

 

"What about the sunroof? Maybe one of us could crawl out?" Danny suggested, looking up.

 

"The car would fill and suffocate the rest of us before anyone could find help," Stiles replied with a sigh, leaning back in his seat, cradled his arm against his chest.

 

"What about the car's phone? Maybe it could call them? It connects by satellite because of the radio, so it might be able to get a connection?" Danny said, clicking a few buttons on the console.

 

"I don't know, we can try." Stiles replied as Danny clicked the button for the speaker.

 

Surprisingly the phone came to life and asked for a name. Stiles rushed to put in Scott's number and held his breath as it dialed; praying to god the connection would through.

 

Scott answered on the third ring. "If you wanting an apology, Stiles, you aren't getting one-"

 

"Scott!" Stiles interrupted, felt like crying with relief, or vomiting, either one.

 

Scott's attitude changed right away. "What's wrong? What happened?"

 

"We're underground. Buried in Allison's car. I don't know where. The alphas must have buried us. And it's bad. Allison, she's-- fuck. Scott, you gotta hurry. I'm freaking out and it's bad. Scotty, it's bad." Stiles gasped out in one breath, felt his chest tighten with panic when the car started beeping about low battery power.

 

"Breathe, Stiles. I'm coming. It's going to be fine. Do you know where you are?"

 

"No, I can't see a fucking thing! We're underground. As in no landmarks. As in you need to do some werewolf thing and get here. _Please_."

 

Stiles tugged on his collar, trying hard to stay calm, but the more he said the worse the situation felt. He didn't know where they were. They were screwed and it was all his fault.

 

"I'm going to get there. It's going to be fine," Scott said. He sounded calm, but Stiles knew it was an act. "Who else is with you besides Allison?"

 

"Lydia and Danny."

 

"Okay, Stiles, I am coming to get you. I will find you, I am calling Boyd now and he will get Sam and Castiel. Isaac and I are heading out now. Just stay calm and breathe slow. Do those exercises you always hated. It'll keep you calm and calm means more air. You just gotta hold on until we find you. And we will. I promise."

 

Stiles would be really damn proud of how Scott was handling this if he wasn't about three second away from having a full-blown panic attack. He could hear the clink of keys in the background and Isaac's voice, asking worriedly if Lydia was okay.

 

"Okay," he replied, his voice trembling. "Scott, I'm going to lose you, the car is going to die," he choked, clutching the steering wheel.

 

"Its okay, Stiles. I am coming to get you, don't worry, I'm coming," Scott replied, forcing every ounce of confidence he had into his voice.

 

"Scott, I'm--"

 

"I know. Me too. Just breathe."

 

The car died and everything went dark. Stiles slumped in his seat, hands shaking in his lap.

 

"How long do we have?" Danny asked.

 

"I don't think you wanna know," Stiles answered. "Lydia how is Allison?" Stiles asked.

 

"Not good. She's really pale, Stiles," Lydia replied, pressing two fingers to Allison's pulse point on her neck. "Her pulse is slow too."

 

Stiles looked out the windshield and stared into the blackness, hoping the others made it in time.

 

-§-

 

Dean landed right where he did the first time, the same forest in the middle of goddamn nowhere with no one around and no roads for ten miles.

 

Dean sighed, still not sure why he signed up for this.

 

He reached into his pocket and pulled out his cell phone, turning it on. He winced when a painful surge of energy rocketed up his arm like hot fire.

 

Derek was growing restless.

 

The phone came to life and Dean tapped the screen until Sam's number popped up. He punched the number with his thumb and waited for it to ring, eyes sweeping the forest.

 

Five minutes later it still wasn't ringing.

 

Dean frowned and stared at it, still unsure of how to work the damn smartphone Sam insisted he get for the _‘_ _GPS and tracking abilities in case we get separated. It's the 21 st century, Dean. Don't be an old man about this, you can still have the tapes in the Impala.'_

After staring at the screen for a while he realized he had no bars, which meant no service, which meant no Sam.

 

Damn it.

 

With a sigh, he pocketed the phone, mood growing increasingly sour, and looked up at the sky then closed his eyes.

 

"Cas, I need a ride. Get your feathery ass down here," he prayed.

 

With a sigh he dropped his head and waited.

 

-§-

 

The room was silent.

 

Boyd was pacing by the front window, having grown agitated about an hour ago, his hands clenching and unclenching at his sides as he continued to turn on his heel every few seconds.

 

Castiel was watching him with interest, perched in the corner once again with one of the Stilinski's many photo albums in his lap.

 

The Sheriff was sitting on the couch, gnawing at a thumbnail with a blank expression on his face, his eyes glazed over like he was lost in thought.

 

"Do they always take this long?" Sam asked, his voice shaking them from their trance.

 

Boyd stopped pacing and faced the hunter, jaw tense. "No. Stiles should have checked in by now," he growled and continued pacing.

 

"Then let's go find them," Sam replied, rising from his own seat on the other side of the couch, glancing down at the Sheriff.

 

The Sheriff shook his head. "I wish I could say I call the shots but I don't, not when it comes to these things. Normally, I would call Scott. But after what happened last night…" he trailed off and Sam sighed.

 

"We can't just not look for them, they could be in trouble," he said.

 

Boyd stopped and crossed his arms, eyes on the front door. "We'll give them half an hour. Then I'll call Isaac. Until then we wait."

 

The room fell into silence again.

 

Castiel's abrupt rising had everyone's heads snapping towards him, eyes on the angel as he stood stock still, eyes staring straight ahead.

 

"What's up, Cas? Is something wrong?" Sam asked, hand resting on his gun.

 

"It's Dean. He's back."

 

The angel was gone within an instant and two seconds later the front door burst open, Scott and Isaac rushing inside.

 

"We have a problem."

 

-§-

 

Dean had just seated himself on a somewhat comfortable tree root when there was a beat of strong wings and then Castiel appeared in front of him, nearly invisible in the darkness of the trees.

 

Dean sighed. "Took you long enough, I'm burning up here," he said rising up, clutching his arm against his chest. Sweat glistened on his forehead.

 

Castiel frowned but didn't say anything. He knew Dean was just upset because he didn't want to ask him for help.

 

"You were successful," he noted, eyes trained on Dean's arm as he strode forward.

 

Dean didn't budge, but nodded, rolling up his sleeve so Cas could see Derek's soul. It glowed red, Derek's essence squirming beneath his skin.

"Pongo is more than ready to see his pups," he replied.

 

"I imagine that is a reference Derek would not appreciate."

 

Dean shrugged, watching Castiel closely as the angel inspected his arm.

 

"I didn't expect you back so soon," he admitted, releasing Dean's arm.

 

Dean shrugged. "Had some help."

 

"Benny?" Castiel questioned, eyebrows rising.

 

"Yeah, son of a bitch is still running around down there. Happy as a clam, actually."

 

Castiel looked at the trees surrounding them, his eyes growing clouded. Castiel didn't miss Benny. The two never liked each other, but Dean could see the angel's expression shift. He was looking for a place to belong too.

 

"We should get going, my arm is killing me," Dean said, changing the subject.

 

Castiel nodded, eyes clearing. He grasped Dean's shoulder and they were gone a second later.

 

-§-

 

"So, let me get this straight. My son is buried underground in a car and we have no idea where they are?" the sheriff asked.

 

This was the third time they've gone over this.

 

He was in denial; Scott could see it on his face.

 

The atmosphere was like lightning, the tension cracking and sharp.

 

The sheriff sighed heavily and ran his two hands through his hair, closing his eyes. "I don't even know where to start."

 

"We don't either but we have to try. They'll die if we don't," Scott replied.

 

The sheriff nodded, his cop instincts kicking in. "Okay, I'm going to make some calls."

 

He strode out of the room, already dialing.

 

Scott blew out a breath and turned to Sam. "How long until Cas gets back? We could really use him now."

 

"It's never clear. Cas can do something in a second, hour or a year. It's totally up to him."

 

"Any way you can tell him to hurry up?"

 

"I'll see what I can do."

 

-§-

 

Derek woke up with a loud gasp and a sharp pain throughout his entire body.

 

After a few moments of heavy breathing, drawing in sharp breathes through his mouth like there wasn't enough air to take in, he felt the pain begin to ebb away into a warm, light feeling. It was like something was encircling him, soothing him as he adjusted.

 

The world was blurry, like he had dirt in his eyes.

 

Rubbing them, he came to find there was, in fact, dirt in his eyes. And his hair, and his ears, and everywhere else dirt could cling to him. He was sitting in the ground, in a box, no, not a box, a _coffin_ , with two men standing over him wearing matching concerned expressions.

 

They spoke but their voices her muffled and warped, like they were miles away and Derek was just catching their shift of tones.

 

He blinked furiously for a few seconds until his vision finally focused, though his eyes still burned. He fixed his gaze on the men, but they went silent.

 

The bigger one, Dean, he recognized. The smaller one, in the rumpled trench coat, he did not know.

 

After taking a few more seconds to take in his surroundings, he heaved himself up to his feet, claws sliding into the mud walls surrounding him. He was a bit dizzy, swaying for a moment as he stood. Derek almost fell over, but there was a flash of movement that didn't register and he felt Dean's hand on his shoulder to steady him.

 

It felt like fire against his cold skin but he didn't shrug it off, feeling some warmth seep back into his body at the contact.

 

"Welcome back, Balto," Dean said.

Derek could hear him more clearly now.

 

Dean had to be the one person with more dog jokes than Stiles.

 

Derek sighed but nodded. "Good to be back," his voice was hoarse.

 

The hunter nodded and jumped out of the grave, reaching down to help Derek out.

 

He was standing on solid ground a moment later, but still unsteady. He was weak and he didn't like it. Derek looked up and his stomach churned.

 

He was home.

 

A fresh slice of pain shot through him at the sight, the guilt of leaving his family once again nearly disabling him. But he knew he had made the right choice.

 

To avoid looking at the house any longer, Derek looked down at himself. He was wearing the same clothing as he had on as when he landed in Purgatory. Magic had spared his clothing from decomposing, but it didn't save his shirt from the alpha's claws. His shirt was shredded, but not bloodied. There wasn't a drop of blood on his body.

 

Derek pulled the remains of his shirt off, hating the way the wind made each loose thread ghost over his skin. He dropped the scraps of fabric on the ground only to notice Dean staring at him with a corked eyebrow.

 

"What?" Derek asked.

 

Dean shifted, crossing his arms. "Do you ever wear a shirt?"

 

Derek sighed and ignored the question, turning to the smaller man in the trench coat.

 

"Who are you?" he rasped, looking Castiel over.

 

He didn't look very powerful, but Derek instincts told him that beneath the frail human skin there was an inferno of strength.

 

"Cas, Derek. Derek, Cas," Dean supplied with a wave of his hand, like this introduction has been done ten times over. "Castiel is an angel."

 

Derek met Castiel's eyes. After living where he's lived for the past six months and fighting what he's fought, he wasn't going to argue whether or not angels existed.

He turned back to Dean. "I need to get to my pack," he said.

 

"Hold you horses, princess. We'll be going soon enough."

 

Derek narrowed his eyes in a glare, which Dean paid no attention to, and growled. "I'll just go myself then," he replied, turning towards the trees.

 

Castiel was suddenly right in front of him, seeming larger than Derek even though he had to look down at the angel.

 

"That would be unwise. You are the target of many powerful alphas. It would be safer if you stayed with Dean and me. We will escort you back to your pack."

 

Derek stared down the angel, not willing to back down. Castiel put a hand on Derek's shoulder and squeeze. It hurt, but that was the point. It was Castiel's warning Derek not to argue with him. Derek nodded, stepping back and Castiel allowed it. Dean was looking at them both, missing their nonverbal discussion.

 

"Shall we transport?" Castiel offered.

 

"I had Sam drop the Impala off. I've hit my angel travel max for the year."

 

They followed Dean around back and there was a classic Impala sitting there. It gleamed in the moonlight and Dean ran his fingers softly along the body as he made his way to the drivers seat. The man was in love with his car. He bit his tongue, hoping to skip the serenade, and went for the passenger seat, getting in next to Dean.

 

"Hey, baby. You miss me?" he cooed quietly, fingers stroking the wheel.

 

Derek watched as he turned it on, heard it practically purr under Dean's gentle hand as he coaxed it to life. Dean pulled away and they were off, Derek's house growing smaller and smaller in the distance.

 

-§-

 

The sheriff had managed to get together a full blown search party about half an hour after they found out the others were buried. Fifteen officers were scouring the preserve now; trying to trace Stiles and the others last footsteps in hopes it will help find them.

 

They didn't have much time left.

 

The alphas had covered their tracks. Isaac and Boyd were in the forest searching for them, but they couldn't pick up anyone's scent and the forest floor had been swept clean.

 

It was frustrating to Scott. He was burning with anger and fighting to stay in control. He was running out of options and they still hadn't been found. He kept a smile on his face. Everyone was looking at him to be their rock, but he was crumbling.

 

"Your mother is watching the hospital," the sheriff said.

 

They wouldn't be there, but Scott nodded anyways. There was no way they were getting out of that car.

 

"We'll find them. I promise."

 

The sheriff nodded, before his eyes narrowed. They were leaving to check out another lead when the sheriff froze, making Scott walk into him.

 

"They did it."

 

"What?" Scott stepped around to see Dean pull up.

 

Castiel was in the front seat and Derek was sitting in the back seat.

 

Scott stared at disbelief. He wanted to believe, but after everyone they've lost, it was hard to imagine anyone coming back.

 

Derek got out of the car and there was enough wind to bring his scent to Scott's nose. It was him. But something was different. Derek was still a werewolf; Scott could smell it. He looked more wild; there was a jagged scar running up the side of his face and Derek couldn't relax. His eyes were on Scott, but it was like every other sense he had was on look out for an attack.

 

Scott walked forward slowly, looking for more changes, but he couldn't see any. Derek held his ground, letting Scott approach him. His defenses were high and that was saying a lot. Derek always had a guard up, but he must have spent the past six months being hunted by things worse than the Argents.

 

"Are you real?" Scott asked. He needed to hear Derek say it.

 

But all he got was a nod.

 

"So it worked."

 

Derek snorted. "Obviously."

 

Scott felt better. That was the Derek Hale he knew.

 

But Scott's shock quickly turned to fear. There was so much going on. They had Derek back, but would he be enough? Could they actually win or was all of this for nothing? And what about the others? Their time was almost out.

 

Scott saw Derek's face change out of the corner of his eyes, his blank mask turning into one of concern.

 

"What is it?" he asked, stepping closer.

 

Scott swallowed hard, meeting Derek's eyes. But he couldn't bring himself to say it. Derek didn't come back to hear how badly everything was going.

 

Derek looked at him expectantly. "What, Scott? Tell me what happened."

 

Scott looked at the ground, shoving his hands into his pockets. "They were taken by the alphas. Stiles, Allison, Danny, and Lydia. Stiles called me about an hour ago, they're hurt and buried underground somewhere. I don't know how much longer they have. Everyone's looking but..." Scott had to stop himself to keep from breaking down.

 

"We're going to find them," Derek said. "I don't care what it takes. We're going to find them."

 

Scott sniffed, feeling the tears bite at his eyes. He was so relieved to hear someone else say that.

 

"It's nice to have an alpha back on our side again."

 

Derek winced, looking away. "Scott. I'm not an alpha anymore."

 

Scott's eyes widened in shock. "What? How?"

 

"Deucalion, took my power when he killed me. Coming back from the dead doesn't change that."

 

"But we need an alpha. We're losing. And losing bad. Betas can't beat them."

 

"We'll find a way," Derek said.

 

-§-

 

The car reeked of blood.

 

They had managed to find a flashlight in the glove box, the small beam their only source of light in the suffocating darkness.

 

Stiles was drenched with sweat, his shirt clinging to him like a second skin, and every breath he took made his chest feel tighter, smaller. He knew time was running out.

 

Glancing once again at his cellphone for the fiftieth time in two minutes, he looked at the time. They had been trapped for almost ninety minutes now.

 

The air was getting thin.

 

Letting out a small grunt of pain, Stiles reached forward slowly and jiggled the keys in the ignition, seeing if he could even get the slightest spark of power.

 

The car remained silent, not even a gurgle.

 

There was a small groan from the back, Allison entering another one of her semi-conscious states. Lydia tensed beside her, preparing for her to start screaming again, but she never did, just whimpered and slipped back under.

 

With the blood loss, she could barely move. Her blood started to coagulate around the edges, but she was now paler than Stiles with a red pool gathered at her feet.

 

Lydia ran her fingers soothingly through Allison's hair, keeping herself occupied, as she took small breathes in through her nose and out through her mouth. She was trying to keep herself calm.

 

They all were.

 

Stiles frowned.

 

Danny had been staring out the windshield for the past hour, studying the dirt with a deeply focused expression.

 

"Danny boy, you okay?" Stiles asked, his voice hoarse and rough.

 

Danny jumped, surprised by the sudden break of silence in the car, and turned to stare at Stiles. The guy didn't look as distraught and upset as one staring in the face of death might look. He looked kind of happy actually, a new life lighting up his face.

 

Either he was going insane or he just had a really good idea, Stiles couldn't decide which.

 

"I think I know how to get us out of here," Danny finally said, looking back at the dirt.

 

Stiles' eyes widened. "What? How?" he asked.

 

Danny pointed to the dirt. "You see the top layer, how there are rocks mixed in and how it's darker? It's wet. It rained early this morning, remember hearing it when I woke up. We could be a lot closer to the top than we originally thought," he replied, getting a little excited.

 

Stiles stared at the dirt again, mind racing. "Okay, so say we are closer to the top. How would we get out?" he asked.

 

Lydia was perking up in the back seat, her interest caught. She leaned in closer but remained silent, eyes fixed on Danny.

 

"Just like I said," he pointed up, "the sunroof."

 

Stiles looked up.

 

They could actually do this, they could get out.

 

But there was a possibility that Danny was wrong.

 

And what about Allison?

 

Stiles frowned, taking a deeper breath then he'd allowed himself in the past two hours. "Well, we're going to die if we just sit here. So I guess it doesn't matter either way, let's do it," he said.

 

"Just one problem," Danny said, frowning at the ceiling.

 

"What?"

 

"The car is dead, the roof won't open."

 

Stiles frowned. Not good.

 

"Is here anything we can do to get it started?" Lydia asked, finally speaking up.

 

Danny thought for a moment longer. "I guess we could try hotwiring it, try to get a little bit of power. If we can get it open even a little bit then we can force it the rest of the way," he replied.

 

Stiles looked down between his legs beneath the wheel where the wires would be. He could do it, his dad had taught him once incase his car ever died.

 

"I can do it, we just have to time it right."

 

Danny nodded, looking up again. "Okay, do it now, I'll be ready."

 

Stiles ducked down, careful of his ribs, and popped open the compartment. The wires fell out in a colorful blob and he quickly set to work on separating the two he needed. Once he found them he stripped away the coating with his nail and held each between his fingers, an inch apart.

 

"Ready," he said, peering up at Danny.

 

"Okay, go!"

 

Stiles flicked the wires together.

 

The car gave a small moan of life, only a spark, and then died again. Aggravated, Stiles tried again. It coughed a few times but didn't otherwise stir.

 

With a growl, Stiles flicked them together one last time and finally the car awoke with a rumble and the dashboard came to life, lights flashing and the car beeping about an empty gas tank.

 

Danny punched the sunroof button quickly and smiled in triumph as it began moving backwards.

 

It only got about five inches before the car died once again, dirt already pouring in through the small crack.

 

"Got it!" he exclaimed, cramming his hoodie in the gap.

 

Stiles leaned back with a sigh of relief. "Okay, who goes first?"

 

"Lydia first, then Allison." Danny said.

 

"Then you, then me," Stiles finished.

 

Danny frowned, but didn't argue.

 

"Okay, Lydia. Up you go," Stiles said, looking back at her.

 

She stared up at the sunroof, unsure, with a frown on her face. "Stiles, what if I go through and the dirt collapses? What if you all get buried? I don't think I can do it. I can't find any more bodies, I won't." she said shakily.

 

"Lydia, everything will be fine. We are sending Allison up behind you; you have to get her out. Do you understand?" Stiles said, tilting her chin down towards him.

 

She stared into his eyes, trembling beneath his fingers, but nodded firmly. He smiled at her, tucked a lock of hair behind her ear, and nodded.

 

"Good."

 

Lydia leaned forward and kissed him on the cheek, before gripping his hair tight. "If I don't see you up there in five minutes, I will personally come back down here and kill you."

 

Stiles knew she meant every word.

 

"We're all getting out of here. Now, go," he said, nodding towards to roof.

 

She took a final look at Danny.

 

"See you up top," he said and then forced the roof back.

 

"Lydia, hold your breath!" Stiles said over the rushing of falling dirt.

 

She complied, taking a deep breath and shoving her way through the sunroof and into oblivion.

 

Danny crawled into the back seat quickly and gently picked up Allison, careful not to jostle her too much, and Stiles supported her head.

 

"Stiles! I'm out! Its only about four feet!" Lydia screamed.

 

Her voice was muffled but they could hear her, she was free.

 

"Okay, here comes Allison! Reach down!" Stiles screamed back.

 

More dirt rushed in and Stiles could see the tips of her fingers about two feet above, reaching for Allison.

 

Danny and Stiles both gently lifted her up and Lydia gripped her wrist, carefully dragging her up as they pushed.

 

Allison moaned in pain, but never woke up.

 

She vanished.

 

Stiles looked to Danny. "Your turn, Danny boy."

 

Danny nodded and sat up, gripping the sides of the sunroof to lift himself up. Just as his head pushed through there was a scream from above and a small rumble.

 

Danny yelped in pain and fell back into his seat, dirt pouring in at an alarming rate, filling up the front of the car and even pouring into the back.

 

It felt like the car was sinking.

 

-§-

 

Lydia's screams pierced through the night like a bell, over and over, and the closer the werewolves got, the clearer they became.

 

"STILES! DANNY! Oh god, please, no. STILES!!!"

 

Derek practically choked when he heard Lydia scream Stiles' name, piercing him so deeply he fumbled in his stride.

 

He suddenly heard Isaac crying out to her, branches and twigs snapping wildly as they both closed in on her. Derek burst into the clearing, watching Isaac emerge from the tree line. He went straight for his mate, shouting her name, but Lydia was in a frenzy, screaming into the ground as she dug through the dirt like a rabid animal.

 

They hadn't seen him yet. Isaac was wholly focused on Lydia, desperate to have her calm down enough to speak to him. Derek's body locked up at the scent of Allison's blood. It was so strong and, when he finally saw her body, he understood why. Scott shot past him, falling at her side.

 

"Derek?"

 

He looked up at Boyd's call, his beta's call. Boyd stared at him, eyes wide.

 

"Where's Stiles?" Scott managed to ask, drawing Derek back to the situation at hand.

 

"The dirt collapsed. He and Danny are still..." Lydia stared at the earth, pushing her hair back and smearing dirt over her forehead.

 

"No." Derek raced across the clearing, dropping to his knees where he had seen Lydia. "Stiles!"

 

Derek pressed his ear to the ground, praying to hear Stiles screaming back or even a heartbeat, but he couldn't hear anything.

 

"No, no, no. Stiles!" Derek clawed at the ground, throwing dirt aside, but it just kept pooling back. "Help--"

 

But Boyd was already at his side, helping him dig.

 

"Isaac, you get Allison to a hospital. Now," Scott ordered.

 

He sounded so distant. Derek's field of focus was on the ground and everything else felt so insignificant. His betas were alive and now he needed his mate. He needed to see Stiles' stupid smile again. Scott was at his side all of a sudden, helping him and Boyd clear away the dirt.

 

Derek's claw dragged across metal, causing a noise that sent shivers down his spine, but for once, he was so relieved to hear it. It was the car roof.

 

"Here!" Scott said, finding the edge of the sunroof. "Stiles!"

 

They hurried to pull away more dirt, but the car was full of it. Derek tore at the roof, needing a bigger opening. He could feel the jagged metal cutting his palms, but Derek didn't care. He didn't come back to find Stiles dead. Derek reached into the ground; the earth hadn't been packed as tight within the car. He found flesh and pulled.

 

But it wasn't Stiles. Danny's head popped out of the ground, gasping for air. Scott and Isaac helped pull him the rest of the way out and Derek got more desperate, almost burying himself in search of another body. But it was taking too long. He could hear Danny still trying to force the dirt out of his body.

 

Derek dug deeper and then he finally felt it. Just a graze of flesh, a fingertip. But it was enough. He forced his hand deeper into the dirt until he had something to hold onto and pulled. It wasn't going easy, making Derek cry out, needing the strength to get Stiles to the surface.

 

He saw the pale hand and Scott was there to help him pull and finally Stiles dirt-stained face peaked out of the dirt. He coughed frantically, eyes wide and teary. Derek yanked him in close, squeezing him so tight he wasn't even sure Stiles could breathe. But he smelt alive, felt alive. Derek could feel Stiles' pulse racing against his flesh and Stiles scrambled to hold on, fingers tight on Derek's skin.

 

"Am I dead?" Stiles asked, shaking.

 

"You better not be or I'm going to kill you," Derek whispered back, realizing just how much he was trembling himself.

 

He sniffed, burying his nose in Stiles' neck and squeezing tighter. Stiles cringed and Derek pulled back to see Stiles clutching his ribs.

 

"You're really back?" Stiles asked, eyes still wet with fear and relief.

 

Derek nodded.

 

"Someone please tell me they see him and I'm not going insane," Stiles begged.

 

"Wasn't me that pulled you out," Scott answered.

 

"It worked. Holy crap, it worked." Stiles surged forward and kissed him, their teeth clacking together from the force.

 

Derek was surprised by it but didn't pull away, just wrapped his arms around Stiles and squeezed. Despite the fact it was their second kiss, it felt like they'd been doing it forever.

_(removed text)_ -§-

 

It was surreal to be walking beside Derek again. Stiles kept looking at him every few seconds, afraid that he would wake up and this would all be over; that this was some oxygen deprived fever dream and he was still buried in that car.

 

The thought made his skin crawl and his chest tighten.

 

Derek's took his hand and squeezed it, sensing his distress.

 

Scott branched off to get Danny and Lydia to the hospital. He was desperate to see Allison again and Stiles couldn't blame him. Scott had pushed Stiles to join them, but Stiles really just wanted to go home and see his dad.

 

Derek, Boyd, and Stiles were walking back to the jeep. Stiles' ribs still hurt like a bitch, when he felt Derek drawing away the pain. Stiles opened his mouth to bitch at him for it. He didn't send someone to the land of evil so that he had someone to kiss his booboos. They were making good time and he was able to keep up just fine.

 

Then, Kali stepped from the shadows, drumming her claws along the side of Stiles' jeep with a wicked smile on her face.

 

"Don't touch my car."

 

Kali's smile grew as she let her claws sink into the metal and dragged them along the door.

 

The bitch was going to die.

 

Derek pushed Stiles behind him, but Stiles ignored the gesture, standing strong between him and Boyd. He was no one's damsel in distress. Kali's toe claws flashed with every step she took towards them. They were painted a particularly deep shade of red. The alpha pack really did love being theatrical.

 

"Well, well, well. Dying once wasn't enough for you, Derek? You've come back to do it again."

 

"Maybe if Deucalion made sure the job was done, I wouldn't be here."

 

Kali smiled like the predator she was, walking closer still. "Considering you're not an alpha any more, I'd say he did a pretty good job."

 

Stiles faltered, glancing at Derek, but his eyes were still fixed on Kali's. Stiles kept waiting for Derek to fight it. He waited for Derek to knock her down and cockily remind Stiles that he was the alpha. But Derek didn't say anything. He didn't even move.

 

"How's it feel to be ripped apart like that, Derek?" Kali drawled.

 

"We'd be happy to demonstrate," Boyd offered, flicking out his claws.

 

"Grown ups are talking here. You bark at me again and you'll join your bitch in the afterlife," Kali threated.

 

Boyd growled, but Stiles grabbed him before he could do something stupid.

 

"Heard a hunter's got you on a choke chain," Kali said, dismissing Boyd entirely as red began to bleed into her eyes. "Haven't you learned your lessons about hunters?" A glint of fangs came out with that question. "How many people are going to die for your stupid mistakes this time? The last hunters you trusted took out most of your family. You really able to protect your pups from us and them?"

 

"They're on our side," Stiles said. "They're going after you, bitch."

 

"Wow. You really believe that." She laughed. "Hunters are never on our side. If I were you, I'd be bathing in the hunter's blood right about now. That's how you thank a hunter for being stupid enough to do you a favour. But you're boring and stupid enough to think truces can still work. That after all the times you've been screwed over that they won't do it again. Strike first. That's how you win."

 

"Stiles, run," Derek said.

 

"What?" he exclaimed.

 

It was the only warning he got before Kali lunged with a snarl, her and Derek rolling backwards across the forest floor.

 

Boyd roared and leaped after them, claws sinking into the alpha's ribs.

 

Kali threw him off easy as if she was flicking off a fly, sending Boyd soaring into a tree hard enough to sound off a deafening crack.

 

He lay still for a few moments, catching his breath.

 

Stiles scrambled over to help him but Boyd waved him off, cracking his back as he stood.

 

Derek and Kali were a tangle limbs, claws and teeth. Stiles could hear the growls and snarls as flesh tore and bones creaked. Derek actually managed to throw Kali off, but it didn't phase the alpha. Her claws dug into the ground, dragging a couple feet before stopping. Her fangs were bared and she was grinning.

 

Derek had more claw marks on him, including a particularly nasty gash on his shoulder. Kali, alternatively, looked disheveled, but the cuts on her arms were already closing.

 

Then things got worse.

 

Kali's whole body shuddered and she shifted, skin vanishing as russet brown fur took over and suddenly a full sized wolf was charging at Derek.

 

Alphas were strongest in this form.

 

Deucalion killed Derek in that form.

 

Derek snarled and met Kali head on, grabbing her snapping jaws with his bare hands and forcing them apart until there was an audible pop and Kali howled, her jaw hanging awkwardly.

 

It only took a second to pop back into place but it was enough time for Derek to smirk at her and prepare himself for her next attack.

 

She went for his legs this time, teeth closing around his calf and chomping down, growling in pleasure as Derek snarled in pain. He twisted back and punched her hard in the snout, sending her reeling back with a growl.

 

Derek got back onto his feet and dived for her, arms locking around her mid section and squeezing, bones snapping and healing beneath his strength. She howled, thrashing to find something to sink her teeth into, but Derek kept himself out of her grasp. He kept squeezing her until her breath caught in her chest and her eyes bulged.

 

She finally whipped around hard enough to knock her head against Derek's, disorienting him long enough to clamp her teeth onto his shoulder and he released her with a howl, rolling onto his back. She actually smiled, wolfish and teeth blood strained, and leaped on top of him, using her claws to shred at his chest.

 

Derek cringed beneath her, writhing as she continued to tear and break without mercy, and Stiles felt like screaming but he was trapped in his own head. This couldn't happen again. He couldn't watch it happen.

 

Then Derek's hand closed around a rock. He smashed it against the side of Kali's head hard enough to send her rolling off him. Derek could see the dent in her skull as she stumbled on all fours, shifting back to human form. Boyd marched across the clearing.

 

"Boyd!" Derek gasped, reaching for his beta, but Boyd kicked him off, leaving Derek choking on his own blood.

 

Kali grinned at the beta as he came close. Boyd showed off his claws, fuming. He had told Stiles how badly he wanted to get revenge for Erica's death.

 

"You got it in you, puppy? You going to send me off to play with your bitch again?"

 

Boyd was shaking. Derek struggled to get up. Stiles helped him, not knowing what to do.

 

"No, Stiles. Boyd!" Derek gasped, barely able to get out more than a whisper.

 

Stiles looked over. Boyd was fine. Kali was still bleeding profusely. Her skull still clearly disfigured, but Derek wasn't looking at Boyd. He was looking at Kali's hand, claws extended and poised to strike like a scorpion.

 

"Boyd! Look out!" Stiles shouted.

 

But Boyd didn't listen. He lashed out at Kali, every intention to kill. Exactly like Kali wanted. She slammed Boyd into the ground, pinning him down by his throat. Boyd flailed, trying to hit her, but Kali's arms were long and she had been in plenty of fights before. She looked over at both of them, smiling like the evil bitch she was.

 

"Wanna say bye to this one, Derek?"

 

Derek roared, surging off the ground, pushing through every injury Kali had inflicted on him. Kali raised her arm, prepared to strike Boyd and kill him, but Derek was faster, tackling her off. She threw Derek off, making a run for it, but Boyd wasn't backing down.

 

Boyd wrestled Kali to the ground, but he didn't stand a chance. Purgatory was clearly the only reason Derek had succeeded, but it wasn't the reason Derek was getting up yet again.

 

Kali flung Boyd into the ground, pinning him down and instantly going for the kill shot. She wasn't going to waste time with classic villain monologues again. But Derek got up behind her, catching her in a headlock. She clawed at Derek's arms, tearing at his flesh in desperate need to get free. Stiles could see Derek's arm shaking. He couldn't hold her. He wasn't strong enough.

 

"Run," Derek grit, barely holding onto the wild alpha.

 

But Boyd wasn't leaving his alpha. He clawed at Kali's stomach, trying to take her out before Derek broke. Derek cried out. He shouldn't be able to hold her, but he was so determined to protect his beta that kept him pushing through the pain.

 

"Stiles, get him away!" Derek struggled to shout, eyes pleading at Stiles.

 

But it was already too late. Kali threw Derek off. She turned her attention back to Boyd, knocking him aside. She went after Derek and Stiles finally snapped out of shock. He ran for the jeep, yanking the handgun he had stashed in the glove compartment.

 

He clicked the safety off and fired. Kali didn't stop though. She kept charging at Derek. Stiles shot again and again until he put a couple wolfsbane bullets in her head. She went down at Derek's feet, eyes empty.

 

"Told you not to touch my car, bitch," Stiles taunted.

 

Derek got up, tearing Kali's head from her body and making sure she stayed dead. Boyd stood as well, in much better shape than the former alpha. Stiles scratched the side of his head. He should not be turned on by a shirtless, bloody man.

 

"If you looked like this for the past six months, I feel completely deprived," Stiles blurted out.

 

Derek scoffed, moving towards Stiles.

 

"You can't hug me when you're bloody, don't touch me when you're bloody!"

 

But Derek ignored him. He needed to thank Stiles for keeping him and Boyd alive. And Stiles needed it too. He needed to feel that Derek was still there. Kali was dead, but they still had four to go.

 

-§-

 

The tension was thick as Stiles drove them back to his house, hands gripped tightly around the wheel to the point where his knuckles were white. His jaw was taunt, teeth grinding together as he accelerated, practically breaking the gearshift off.

 

Derek remained silent in the passenger seat, hoping to heal before Stiles shifted from passive aggressive anger to lecturing. It would have been easier if Boyd stuck around, but neither he or Stiles could fault him for wanting to check on the others. He focused on breathing through the pain as his body sluggishly healed itself. He had forgotten how much an alpha's wounds could hurt and how long they took to heal.

 

“You should have run,” he whispered, his breathes still rattling wheezes in his lungs.

 

Stiles side eyed him and after a few seconds of silence he laughed, bitter and short, but a laugh, shaking his head as he stared at the road, one arm wrapping around his midsection with a grimace. "You know what, Derek. I don't understand you."

 

Derek looked at him, confusion plain on his face. "What?"

 

Stiles' eyes met his, his amber irises a deep brown in the darkness.

 

"I said, _I don't understand you_. At all."

 

Derek raised an eyebrow and Stiles sighed, looking back at the road. "You keep pushing me away, wanting me to stay out of fights, but you know I can help you. I’m no damsel, Derek, I can protect myself," he said.

 

"I’m not pushing you away," Derek replied quickly, voice gruff like he was trying to brush it off.

 

That made Stiles even angrier.

 

" _Yes_ , you are. Tonight you told me to run, even though you _know_ you _and_ Boyd would have died if I weren’t there. You are always underestimating me. You never should have left me behind in the first place, maybe we wouldn’t be in this mess,” he hissed.

 

That stung. “You know I couldn’t control that! Dying was not exactly on my agenda, Stiles!” he snarled.

 

The car screeched to a halt in front of the house and Stiles turned to him with a shocked expression. “You actually think I am blaming you for dying? What the fuck, Derek! I meant how you _chained me_ to a fucking _wall_ and ran away from me!”

 

Derek growled and got out of the car charging straight for the tree line surrounding the Stilinski’s yard, ignoring Stiles’ angry squawk behind him.

 

Stiles didn't take the hint and followed right behind. "Where do you think your going?" he shouted after him angrily. "I'm not done talking!"

 

"Well I am!" Derek growled back, stopping to catch his breath, his lungs on fire.

 

Stiles caught up easily, planting himself directly in front of him with a frown on his face. "If you don't want to be here that bad why don't you just leave?" he said heatedly.

 

Derek knew Stiles was just trying to get a rise out of him, he wanted to fight. Derek didn't, fighting never solved anything he'd come to learn.

 

"I'm pretty sure that was what I was just trying to do," he replied dryly, a little out of breath. He let out a small grunt of pain as he felt a few ribs snap back into place.

 

Stiles mouth fell open and he looked genuinely hurt, heart beat ratcheting up. His sarcasm radar apparently wasn't working tonight.

 

Derek sighed heavily, leaving against a tree. "I'm not going anywhere, Stiles. I came back for a _reason_ ," he growled.

 

"Well apparently you seem to be rethinking that _reason_ ," Stiles nearly spit. The _rethinking me_ was left unsaid.

 

Derek didn't understand where all this rage was coming from. But Stiles was full of it, trembling not three feet away from him.

 

"Stiles! I'm not leaving! I am here to stay. Why the hell would I have come back other wise?" Derek shouted, growing frustrated.

 

"Because I thought you wanted too!" Stiles exploded, throwing his arms out to the side.

 

Derek was shocked, eyes wide but silent.

 

"I thought you wanted too," he choked out quietly, scrubbing at his burning eyes furiously with his knuckles. "I made a mistake, I shouldn't have asked them to bring you back."

 

That really confused Derek. And it made him angry.

 

"Then why the hell did you! Please explain this to me! If I am so insufferable then why did you bring me back! Why didn't you just leave me down there!" he roared, eyes glowing blue as he closed the space between them and shoved Stiles into a tree, holding him there with his shirt bunched up in Derek's fist.

 

Stiles didn't even seem fazed by it, his eyes fixed sadly on Derek's chest. "Because I couldn't handle the guilt? Because I needed you? Because I missed you?" he hissed, but it wasn't angry, more like self-loathing, as he ran his fingers softly over Derek's white knuckles.

 

Derek's mouth opened but no sound came out, the blue bleeding out of his eyes. He slowly released Stiles' shirt and took a small step back, eyes cast towards the ground. "I didn't think anyone would," he whispered harshly, hands clenching at his sides.

 

Stiles made a noise somewhere between a choked out sob and a laugh and then lunged forward, kissing Derek straight on the lips.

 

It took the werewolf by surprise, made him stumble a bit as Stiles flipped them around and shoved _him_ against the tree, licking into his mouth with driven enthusiasm, his fingers gripping Derek's hair and keeping him locked there as if he was afraid he would run away.

 

Derek started kissing back, his arms winding around Stiles' waist and crushing him flush against his body, causing Stiles to let out a small gasp. He broke the kiss for only a second, to take in his face, his eyes, before Derek dove back in and claimed his lips again.

 

Finally, they broke away, gasping for breath, foreheads sticky with sweat, and a little blood, as they leaned them against each other, eyes closed.

 

"I missed you, idiot," Stiles said shakily, still out of breath.

 

They both opened their eyes.

 

Derek nodded. "Me too."

 

-§-

 

"Okay, thanks Isaac, keep me posted," Sam said and then hung up the phone.

 

Dean looked at him, the sheriff a few feet behind, talking with one of his deputies over a map of the Beacon Hills Preserve.

 

"They found them, everyone is alive, Scott and Isaac just took Allison to the hospital with Lydia and Danny, Stiles is with Derek heading back to the house," Sam slipped his phone into his pocket and let out a sigh of relief.

 

Dean nodded. "Good, I'll tell the Sheriff, start the car and I'll be there in a minute," he tossed Sam and the keys and watched his brother walk away before joining the sheriff.

 

The sheriff looked up at Dean as he approached, eyes pulled tight with worry.

 

"They got them, sheriff. Everyone is alive."

 

Dean saw the tension melt out of his body and he kneeled over the hood of his car with a laugh of relief, forehead resting against his bunched up hands.

 

"Thank Christ," he rasped.

 

Dean smiled and clapped him on the back. "Stiles and Derek are at the house now with Castiel, Scott and Isaac took the others to the hospital."

 

"Okay, I'll call off the party and then head back to the house, you and Sam head that way. I want them to have as much protection as possible,” the sheriff replied, straightening himself up.

 

Dean nodded and turned away, looking back over his shoulder for a brief second. "Take care, sheriff, we'll see you back at home base."

 

He nodded and waved Dean away, picking up his radio to alert the search party.

 

Dean met Sam at the Impala, sliding into the driver's seat.

 

Sam looked tired, dark circles under his eyes with his head resting against the window, staring at the world half-lidded.

 

Dean cleared his throat and Sam shot up, rubbing his eyes before meeting his brother's gaze. "What did he say?" he asked.

 

"He was relieved, like any parent, said he'd meet us back at the house. I am going to drop you off at the house and then head to the hospital, I don't want any of them going without protection after what just happened right under our noses," Dean replied, gripping the wheel.

 

They rode in silence for a few moments, the streetlights reflecting on the Impala's glossy black paint.

 

"Dean," Sam said, breaking the silence, his voice quiet.

 

"Yeah?"

 

"Do you think we can win this?" he asked, staring straight ahead.

 

Dean looked sideways at him; saw his focused expression and slight frown. He was worried.

 

"I don't know, I guess we'll just have to find out won't we?" he replied with a sigh.

 

Sam laughed half-heartedly. "People are going to die, Dean."

 

Dean looked at him full on this time. "I know, Sammy. I'm just going to have to make sure it's not one of us aren't I?" he cracked a small grin.

 

Sam's lips ticked up a bit. "Yeah, I guess you are."

 

They fell into a silence, the unspoken promise passing between them.

 

-§-

 

Showers were amazing.

 

They were one of the various things Derek missed when down in Purgatory, but having his family back mostly distracted him from his earthly longings, like Stiles.

 

The same Stiles who was sitting on his bed just a room away, flipping through the various print-out maps of Beacon Hills he has. Derek could hear him uncap the marker and circle another location.

 

He put his head back under the stream and let it run over him, blocking out all noise except for the running water.

 

It was still weird being back, everything was warmer, brighter, and livelier than Purgatory had ever been. It was a lot like Derek's dreams had been when he was down there.

 

He'd often dreamed of the pack, of Stiles, of home. It was almost like he was there, felt so real that he could nearly taste Stiles' lips and feel the sun on his face in his backyard. He would always wake up, of course, but Laura would be curled into his side and he would immediately forget the world he'd left behind, so wrapped up in family that his mind hardly wondered.

 

Which was probably why the familiar, heavy feeling of guilt was creeping inside of him, right beneath his ribs. He knew, logically, his pack was still there and that the alpha pack was far from gone. He knew they still needed help.

 

But being with his family again had been intoxicating.

 

A part of him hadn't wanted to come back, that same of part of him that pushed Stiles away tonight, that same part of him that aches constantly within him and howls in loneliness.

 

But that part of him, now, was outweighed by the instinct to protect. His pack needed him, and he'd be damned if he went against everything he was ever taught to make himself happy. Pack didn't work that way.

 

So he bottled up the hurt and stowed it away, like he'd done for years, and turned off the shower.

 

Stiles' eyes were shut when he walked in the room, but snapped open when he closed the door; a small jump in his heart beat thumping in Derek's ears.

 

"Sorry, didn't mean to wake you," Derek said quietly, towel slung low on his hips as he crossed the room.

 

Stiles smiled sleepily and shrugged. "Don't worry, I don't sleep these days."

 

Derek frowned at that but didn't say anything. Stiles pushed some clothes at him.

 

Derek raised an eyebrow when he realized they were his favorite sweats from home, wondering how Stiles got them.

 

"Uh, after you uh…left, the county took the Hale house and the loft so umm I took your stuff and stored it in the garage. Dug some clothes out for you, because obviously, you need some," Stiles explained uncomfortably, avoiding eye contact.

 

Derek muttered a quiet thank you and took the clothes, quickly changing as Stiles turned his head away, but Derek didn't miss the catch of breathe in his throat right as he settled his shirt into place.

 

"There, now you look like a person again," Stiles joked, grinning deviously at Derek as he rose slowly from the bed.

 

His grin vanished into a grimace of pain as he faltered and stumbled forward, Derek catching his quickly before he hit the ground.

 

"Sorry, it's my ribs, they are really hurting now that the adrenalin buzz wore off," he coughed, Derek's hands still tightly wrapped around his biceps.

 

Derek slowly steadied him and took his hand. ""Lets get them wrapped up and you need to take some painkillers."

 

Stiles nodded and followed him silently into the bathroom.

 

-

 

"Tight enough?" Derek asked.

 

Stiles coughed, choking up some of the water he had been drinking. "What?" he croaked.

 

"The bandages, Stiles, are they tight enough?" Derek sighed, tugging on the bandages he'd just secured around Stiles' ribs.

 

Stiles looked down at them and then back up, still hacking a little. "Yeah, yeah, sorry, thanks."

 

Derek nodded; a small smile tugging at his lips as he started packing up the first aid kit. "You are disgusting," he mumbled.

 

Stiles kicked him half-heartedly, a blush spreading over his cheeks. "I'm seventeen, what did you expect?"

 

Derek put the kit back in the cabinet and turned back to Stiles, stepping between his legs to look him over again once more. "Are you sure you're okay?" he asked quietly.

 

Stiles smiled. "Yeah, I'm quite a resilient little human, despite popular belief."

 

Derek frowned. That was yet another stab at Derek’s go-to instinct to push Stiles away when they were in the face of danger.

 

Stiles swallowed and sighed, covering his face with his hands. "Sorry, I didn't mean it like that," he mumbled.

 

Derek gently moved his hands away from his face, shaking his head. "It's okay. I don't regret it you know, if I had the chance I would do it all over again. I am always going to protect the people I care about, Stiles."

 

Stiles stared into Derek's intense gaze and swallowed hard, lifting up his hand and running his finger down the scar on Derek's face. "You know, it's totally unfair that this raises your hot factor by like a million percent," he said, breaking the tense silence.

 

Derek grabbed his hands in his own and snorted, bringing them down to his sides. "Because everything I do is to increase your inner turmoil, Stiles," he replied sarcastically, all seriousness gone from their conversation.

 

Stiles smirked at him. "It wouldn't surprise me."

 

Derek rolled his eyes and helped him lower off of the bathroom counter, leading him back to the living room by the hand, where Castiel was just closing the door behind Sam.

 

"Stiles, Derek, glad to see you guys are okay," Sam said as they walked into the room. "Castiel just informed me of the alpha run-in."

 

Stiles nodded. "Yeah, Kali isn’t a threat anymore. Derek took care of her, thoroughly," he said, if not a little proudly, wincing as he slowly settled down onto the couch.

 

Derek stared at Sam warily, standing between him and Stiles with his arms crossed.

 

"Oh, right, sorry. We haven't met, I'm Sam, Dean's brother," Sam offered Derek his hand.

 

Derek shook it.

 

"Dean mentioned you," he said, rounding the couch and sitting down beside Stiles, Sam following behind.

 

"I'm sure he did," Sam replied, plopping down into one of the armchairs.

 

He turned to Stiles.

 

"Your dad is filled in and should be back soon. Isaac called us from the hospital and said Allison is in a sedated coma but is stable, everyone else is fine,"

 

Stiles let out a shaky sigh of relief. "For a second there I thought we were going to lose her, there was blood everywhere," he said quietly, eyes darkening as he flashed back to the car, a cold chill running up his spine.

 

Nightmares were definitely in his future, no doubt about that.

 

Derek scooted a bit closer to him, taking his hand a leeching some more of his pain away.

 

"Dean went to the hospital to keep an eye on everyone else until we can all join up again and hash out a battle plan," Sam said.

 

"Actually, I kind of had an idea," Stiles replied, sitting up a little straighter. "Considering Cas is all down and groovy with his angel travel, what if he went and spied on the alphas? Figured out what they are up to and give us the report? We could finally be a step ahead of them, they have no idea we have angel on our side, its full proof."

 

Sam nodded, considering it for a moment. "Its not a bad idea, what do you think, Cas?"

 

The angel turned away from the window and faced them, his face blank. "I will do whatever is decided is best, I agree that spying on the alphas is an effective way to work out what our next move is on the battlefield," he said.

 

Stiles looked at Sam. "Well then, we'll put it to a vote."

 

Sam nodded. "I'll call Dean."

 

-§-

 

Scott doesn't like hospitals. Being the son of a nurse, it would seem weird, but he doesn't like them. They are a place of pain and death and heartache and none of those things are likeable in his book.

 

When his friends started to end up in them, rolled in one by one at one point or another, Scott started to really not like hospitals. They showed him the people he couldn't protect, the blood on his hands.

 

Now, sitting at Allison's bedside, listening to her body slowly stitch itself back together, agonizingly slowly, he hated them even more. She was in a sedated coma, a tube down her throat and her bruised face was pale beneath the florescent lights, and it was all his fault, because he _left her_ , he _left_ _them_ , and they paid the price.

 

They were his pack, despite their differences, and he wouldn't leave them again.

 

There was a knock at the door and Dean appeared, holding a cup of coffee in one hand and his cell phone in another. "Sam just called, Stiles wants to have a meeting with everyone to talk things over."

 

Scott looked back at Allison with a frown. "I don't want to leave her alone," he replied.

 

"That's why I had Isaac call him," Dean said and Chris Argent walked in the door behind him, wearing a grim expression.

 

"Hi, Scott."

 

"Mr. Argent."

 

"Isaac filled me in on what happened, I'm sorry I couldn't come earlier, I was away dealing with some…family issues," Chris said, walking over the other side of Allison's bed and sitting down.

 

Scott knew he meant Gerard, but that was something Dean didn't need to know about.

 

"It's okay, they say she is stable but they are going to keep her sedated until her head has some time to heal and some of the swelling goes down so they can check for internal bleeding," he said, eyes meeting Chris'.

 

"The doctor told me, they said it shouldn't be more than a few days."

 

"That should be enough time for us to finish this."

 

"I don't want her anywhere near a fight, not for a long while."

 

"For once, Mr. Argent, we have the same interests."

 

Scott stood. "I'll be back later to check on her, I have my cell if anything changes."

 

"I'll let you know," Chris replied, taking Allison's hand.

 

Scott nodded and he and Dean left, closing the door quietly behind them.

 

"How did you know about Allison's dad?" Scott asked as they walked down the long white hallway, various nurses and patients passing by.

 

"Argents are basically royalty in the hunter world, wasn't hard to piece together who she was after what happened to Kate," Dean replied, tapping on his phone.

 

Scott paused momentarily. "You knew Kate?"

 

Dean faced him, lips thinning. "We worked a couple of jobs together, back when she was the family rebel, trying to prove her name. She was good, but too hotheaded and driven by blood thirst. I didn't contact her at all after that, and then her name appeared in the news, convicted of mass murder and dead."

 

Scott studied him for a moment. "Kate was the one who killed Derek's family, you know."

 

Dean nodded. "Yeah, I pieced that together too."

 

He and Scott stared at each other for a few more moments before Scott turned away and started down the hall again.

 

The others met them by the entrance, all of them shifting around impatiently.

 

"How is she?" Lydia asked first, gripping Isaac's hand.

 

"Stable, but they are keeping her sedated for a while, " Scott sighed.

 

An audible breath of relief passed through the group.

 

"So, Stiles wants to meet up, Dean and I are heading to his house, you guys follow," Scott nodded to the hunter and everyone followed them out.

 

-§-

 

Stiles and Scott hugged for a good, solid five minutes before either was ready to let go. They were nearly separated forever that night, and Stiles was sure as hell taking all the bro hugs he could get.

 

Scott and him were okay now, and that was all he needed.

 

Scott was the first was to pull away, his hands squeezing Stiles' shoulders. "I am so sorry, Stiles. If I hadn't left this never would have happened," his voice cracked a little, eyes misty.

 

Stiles shook his head. "I understand, Scott. I understood then, I might have been a bit hurt but I got it. All that matters is that you are back now and everyone is okay, "Stiles replied with a lopsided smile.

 

Scott grinned too, bless his crooked little jaw, and they embraced once more, quickly this time before facing the pack gathered within Stiles' living room, the two hunters and the angel nestled in the corner.

 

"So, my plan," Stiles began, walking further into the room. "Since the alphas have no idea Castiel is on our side, I say we send him to spy on them in his ninja angel mode and bring us back the juicy details of just what the alphas are up to. We would finally be one step ahead and have a better idea of what we need to do."

 

Scott nodded. "It's a good plan, but we don't even know where the alphas are holed up. There is no way they will still be out by the lake, they would have moved by now," he said, crossing his arms.

 

"One step ahead of you Scotty boy, we can track them using some of their blood. Cas knows how," Stiles replied nodding to the angel.

 

"But where exactly are you going to get alpha blood? We can't exactly just walk up to them and ask them sweetly to open up a vein," Lydia said, seated in Isaac's lap on the couch.

 

"For once, Lydia, I’m a head of you too. Got my own personal supply," Stiles said and just then Ethan appeared in the kitchen doorway, looking a bit nervous. Aiden was strangely absent from his side.

 

Derek barely resisted a growl, stiffening beside Stiles, and Stiles took one of his hands, linking their fingers together. He calmed considerably but his eyes never left Ethan.

 

Stiles could see Boyd tense out of the corner of his eye, eyes flashing gold.

 

Ethan ignored them and walked over to Stiles, Danny stepping forward.

 

"Ethan, you came," he said, a smile spreading over his face.

 

Ethan smiled back, small and private, and then faced Stiles.

 

"Aiden is with the others right now, my blood will lead you to them, but after this my brother and I will not help you any farther. We _can_ _’_ _t_ help you any farther," he said, offering up his wrist.

 

Stiles nodded. "Understood," he turned to the angel. "Cas?"

 

Castiel walked over to them, bowl and knife in hand, and swiftly sliced open Ethan's wrist. The werewolf didn't budge. His blood dripped steadily into the bowl until his arm eventually healed and Castiel pulled away, sitting back over in the corner, already muttering under his breath in Enochian.

 

Ethan nodded, casting Danny one long glance, before vanishing out the front door into the night.

 

Everyone was silent for a few moments.

 

"I've got them," Castiel announced, looking up.

 

Stiles looked at him. "Keep in touch.”

 

Castiel nodded and then was gone.

 

Dean and Sam exchanged a look before Dean looked at Stiles. "It shouldn't be long now."

 

"Yeah. In the meantime, let's talk weapons."

 

-§-

 

Castiel quite enjoyed ‘angel travel' as Dean put it. He didn't understand why the hunter detested it so much; it beat long, tiring human travel.

 

He was within the vicinity of the alphas in minutes, being sure to remain unseen as he approached the abandoned warehouse on the far outskirts of Beacon Hills, nearly all the way to the next town, allowing Ethan time to return to his pack before following suit.

 

The warehouse was quiet to the human ear, but Castiel could detect the hushed tones of the alphas inside. He entered the building and followed the voices, coming upon them on the second floor, all of them gathered around a worn table with mismatched chairs.

 

Ethan was present, though he'd changed his clothes, probably to rid himself of the scent of Derek's pack.

 

Deucalion sat at the head of the table, Ennis at his right twins at the end. Ennis was talking to him in harsh tones, his voice often switching into a growl.

 

"Not only is he back but he killed Kali. I say we take him out now, while he’s weak and vulnerable,” he snarled.

 

Deucalion didn't look at him, his seeing stick twirling in his fingers, eyes hidden behind his dark sunglasses.

 

"Quite the contrary. If Derek is back, it must have taken an exorbitant amount of power to do so. Which means he is not weak and vulnerable, and _that,_ my dear Ennis _,_ is concerning.”

 

"So the brat got a hold of a little voodoo, so what? I'm sure their emissary had something to do with it, Deaton," Ennis hissed rising out of his chair abruptly.

 

"No, not even a dark druid could bring someone back from the dead, it is against the balance of nature. It had to be something much more powerful," Deucalion said, rising from his seat elegantly.

 

Ennis watched him as he paced, a face twisted with anger. "What are you thinking then? A witch, warlock, fairie?"

 

"No, more powerful than that. It would have to be able to bend the strings of fate itself, travel across dimensions. Not many things in legend can do that, demons, angels, reapers, but if Derek and his pack of miscreants were to somehow get one of those beings on their side, I would be thoroughly surprised. And I am not often surprised," Deucalion said, pausing for a moment.

 

"But I remember rumors about those hunters Derek's got wrapped around his finger. The Winchesters, they took out a lot of creatures of many varieties for years but fell off the radar in 09', after the freak apocalyptic occurrences. I heard an angel worked with them for a while, might even still do."

 

Ennis snorted. "You can't possibly be saying that those children have an angel on their side. That's insane, no way they would be able to harness that amount of power. Angels don't help humans, they aren't hardwired that way."

 

"But some have fallen, turned against the orders of God himself and rebelled, gained their free will. Names don't really get around but I've heard of them," Deucalion replied.

 

"Do you know what that would mean for us? We would all be killed in a matter of minutes!" Ennis exclaimed.

 

"Not exactly, fallen angels are considerably weaker than those of Heaven. Sometimes even human, and even if they did have an angel; it wouldn't be able to cause too much damage before it would eventually run out of power. And if we were to acquire the angel's blade, we could kill it."

 

"But there would be casualties, one of us could die, one of us already has" Ennis growled.

 

"I told you that was a possibility from the very start, Ennis. I did not take you as a coward, and will certainly not tolerate it. Kali did not live up to my expectations, yes, which is disappointing. But we will survive without her," Deucalion snarled, his eyes flaring red.

 

Ennis visibly flinched. "I am no coward, but an angel and hunters definitely alters the original plan," he said, shoulders tense.

 

Deucalion smiled sinisterly. "As if they would stand a chance against the alpha pack, against me. They are children with playthings and no idea what they are stepping into. Rest assured that we shall be the victorious ones when this is over. And the true alpha will be ours."

 

"So that's it, we stick with the plan and keep our fingers crossed?" Aiden asked.

 

Deucalion's eyes snapped to his, boring into him with a fierce intensity, skin rippling like he was about to shift but didn't. "No, the plan proceeds as normal. Tomorrow we attack, and we kill them all."

 

Castiel vanished, mind set on the Stilinski home as he dived into oblivion.

 

-§-

 

Stiles was pretty freaking exhausted by the time Castiel magically popped back into his living room, scaring the ever loving shit out of poor Isaac who nearly propelled himself across the room out of shock.

 

Stiles had been asleep on Derek for at least an hour, coming in and out of consciousness as the pack talked, Derek's body heat and strong heart pumping beneath his ear lulling him into a light sleep.

 

"Ugh, napping, come back later," Stiles whined, burying his face in the couch cushions after Derek snapped to his feet in alarm.

 

"The alphas are attacking tomorrow, they plan on killing you all. Except someone they called a true alpha, which I am not sure I have ever heard of," Castiel said, tone all seriousness as usual.

 

Stiles perked up at that, mind snapping to the present. "True alpha? What the hell is that?"

 

"It's an alpha that rises to power out of sheer will and morality, one that doesn't kill to gain his power. Peter mentioned something about them once, when the alphas first arrived. I didn't know he knew what they were looking for, but then again he never was an over sharer," Derek replied, relaxing only slightly.

 

"But no one here is an alpha, so who could they want?" Lydia said, her lips pursed in confusion. After Isaac had recovered, he slinked back over to her, nervously avoiding Castiel.

 

"Don't know, guess we'll find out tomorrow when we all supposedly die," Stiles sighed heavily, pinching his nose. He felt a migraine coming on.

 

"No one is dying," Derek growled.

 

Castiel glanced at Derek.

 

"They also have suspicions about me, the leader, Deucalion, he's smart. He remembers you two from when Lucifer rose," Castiel said, turning to Sam and Dean.

 

The brothers exchanged looks before looking back at Castiel.

 

"Not good, you were our secret weapon, Cas," Dean sighed, scrubbing his hands over his face.

 

The day was growing continuously darker.

 

Stiles' phone rang, his dad's number popping up on the screen. Stiles got up from the couch and walked into the kitchen, answering the call. "Hey dad, thought you'd be home sooner."

 

"Hello, Stiles."

 

Stiles' blood went cold.

 

It was Deucalion.

 

"Where's my dad," Stiles asked, his chest immediately tightening, heart leaping into his throat.

 

Derek appeared in the room a second later, his face concerned, the others tagging behind.

 

"Oh don't worry, the sheriff is perfectly comfortable, well aside from that nasty knot of his head. I'm afraid Ennis got a little…eccentric," Deucalion replied smoothly, his voice ending in an amused rumble. "Melissa and Chris are here as well, keeping the poor sheriff company."

 

Scott's breath hitched, Stiles gripped the counter and his knuckles went white.

 

"What are you doing with them?" Stiles choked out, his vision was starting to blur, the air becoming too thick to breathe.

 

"They are nothing but insurance, dear boy, insurance that if you bring that angel of yours to the battle field tomorrow, they all die," Deucalion growled.

 

It sent a shiver all the way down Stiles' spine. He knew he meant it.

 

"I'll see you tomorrow, Stiles. Don't be late."

 

The line went dead.

 

The phone clattered to floor and Derek caught Stiles right as his knees gave out, his breathing erratic and rapid, eyes wild with fear.

 

"Oh my god, they are going to kill them, oh god," Stiles choked.

 

He felt like he was in the car all over again, buried beneath pounds of dirt with no air to breathe, no time left.

 

"Stiles! You have to calm down, breathe!" Derek said in his ear.

 

"I can't, I can't!" Stiles replied helplessly, his vision was starting to go dark, the room spinning.

 

"Move!" Someone hissed and shoved Derek out of the way.

 

Stiles didn't even have time to look up before Lydia freaking Martin was kissing him straight on the lips, effectively cutting off any air supply he previously had.

 

The panic melted away almost instantly.

 

Lydia pulled away and gripped his shoulders, forcing him to look into her eyes. "Better?"

 

Stiles took a deep, shaky breath and nodded. "Better."

 

"Good, stop scaring me like that," she scolded before stroking some hair away from his forehead and standing up again.

 

"How did you know that would work?" Stiles asked.

 

Lydia shrugged. "I read somewhere that holding your breath could stop a panic attack."

 

Stiles stared at her for a few seconds before smiling shakily. "That was really smart."

 

Lydia smiled back at him. "I know."

 

Scott appeared at his side then, gripping his shoulder in his hand and looking straight into his eyes. "I am going to get them back, Stiles. I promise. Nothing is going to happen to them."

 

Stiles believed him but he couldn't help the tears that welled up in his eyes suddenly. "I can't lose them both, Scott. I can't lose both parents, I won't survive it, I won't," he choked out and Scott pulled him into a hug.

 

"I know. That's why I will get them back at all costs, even if I have to kill Deucalion myself."

 

-§-

 

Everyone decided the only thing they could really do now was sleep.

 

Scott went to go back to the hospital to watch over Allison, Isaac and Lydia went with him so they could all take shifts.

 

Sam and Dean crashed out on the sofas while Castiel diligently watched over them from his corner.

 

Danny took the guest bedroom.

 

Stiles and Derek went upstairs, exhausted.

 

Well, Derek actually carried him up the stairs since by this point every part of his body hurt and his head was pounding so hard it was making him sick to his stomach.

 

He whined a little when Derek picked him up bridal style, but was quickly silenced by Derek's all famous glare of death.

 

When Derek laid him down on his bed he thought he might cry in relief. He was beyond exhausted.

 

Derek began pulling the covers up over him when Stiles grabbed his wrist and tugged, looking up into his eyes. "Stay," he whispered, "Please?"

 

Derek stared down at him for a few moments before he finally nodded and kicked off his shoes and climbing in behind Stiles, pulling their bodies flush together beneath the sheets.

 

Stiles made a noise of approval and curled into Derek's body heat, relishing how it made all his soreness seem to seep away like an extremely sexy heating pad.

 

Derek snorted in amusement against his neck before burying his nose into it and breathing deep. "They'll be fine, Stiles. I promise." He murmured quietly.

 

"I hope so. But I can't let Scott kill anyone, its not who he is. He wouldn't be able to live with himself if he did it," Stiles replied, entwining their fingers against his chest, inspecting Derek's scarred knuckles in the dim light of the room.

 

"He won't, Stiles. If it comes down to it I will be the one who kills Deucalion. Scott shouldn’t have to bear that burden, ever."

 

Stiles nodded, closing his eyes with a long sigh. "I hope you gut him like a fish."

 

Derek rumbled behind him. "Trust me, its all I've been thinking about all day."

 

"Just don't get yourself killed in the process, for the sake of my health," Stiles replied, patting Derek's hand.

 

He could almost feel Derek rolling his eyes.

 

"Sure, anything else?" he teased, tightening his hold on him a bit.

 

"Be naked when you wake me up?"

 

Derek nipped at his neck in reply, making Stiles squeak, before placing a soft kiss there in apology. "Go to sleep, Stiles,” he said, exhaustion more prominent in his voice.

 

"Night," Stiles said.

 

"Night."

 

-§-

 

Stiles woke up with a cold pit in the bottom of his stomach.

 

People were going to die today. He could feel it.

 

The thought made his head spin and his stomach churn but he pushed it away and took a few deep breaths, clearing his mind before slowly rising from the bed.

 

Derek was already gone, his spot cold, but Stiles could hear people moving around downstairs, the clang of weapons and coffee cups traveling up the stairs.

 

He quickly got dressed and hurried down, shoving his unruly hair into place before entering the kitchen.

 

Scott, Isaac, and Lydia were back, looking a little worse for wear, dark circles under their eyes and their noses buried in maps.

 

Stiles immediately felt bad for the deathly heavy night of sleep he'd just had in Derek's arms but didn't say anything, just gave them all cups of coffee and a kiss on Lydia's cheek before grabbing his baseball bat from the coat closet, the aluminum one.

 

Sam and Dean were pouring over more maps in the dining room, pointing to various areas and speaking in low voices, planning their own way of attack, or escape, Stiles didn't know. Castiel watched them closely, only tearing his eyes long enough to look out the window and back.

 

Danny was typing on his computer, a million different windows popping up at different times as he rapidly read whatever information he was pulling up before switching to the next window, his phone beeping with new texts every minute or so, probably from Ethan.

 

He came upon Derek last, the werewolf was staring out of the living room window at the sunlit front yard, his eyes a shocking green in the light.

 

Stiles came up behind him and wrapped his arms around his waist, leaning his head against his back. "Promise me that you will not do anything stupid like chain me to another wall and let me get you killed?"

 

Derek remained still for a moment before reaching down and entwining their fingers over his stomach. "You didn't get me killed, Stiles. I died protecting you, that's all that matters."

 

"Don't protect me this time?" Stiles replied, moving to stand in front of him, eyes pleading.

 

"You know as well as I do that that's not possible," Derek replied with a small smile, running his thumb over Stiles' cheekbone.

 

Stiles sighed but leaned into the touch. "I was afraid you'd say that."

 

"Don't be, I am not going anywhere this time, and neither are you. Everyone is going to be fine, Stiles. We will win this."

 

"We could win this, if we had Castiel, but that's not really possible now…" Stiles sighed darkly.

 

Derek frowned, leaning forward to kiss his forehead softly, running his nose through his hair. "We'll find a way."

 

Stiles hoped so. He closed his eyes and sent off another small prayer.

 

_Let him live_.

 

Castiel peered at him from the dining room.

 

-§-

 

Sam had just shut the trunk of the impala when Dean appeared behind him; shrugging his leather jacket into place, backpack in hand.

 

Sam eyed the backpack before looking up at Dean. "Going on a field trip?" he joked, leaning against the impala with crossed arms.

 

Dean looked like he might smile but he didn't, his eyes growing a little sad. "No, you are."

 

Sam raised an eyebrow. "I'm not following."

 

Dean sighed, scrubbing a hand over his face before looking back up. "You can't fight, Sammy. Not this time," he said slowly, voice gruff.

 

Sam stared at him in shock for about a second before he got angry, straightening up. "Dean, you can't send me away! I've gotten this far and I am sure as hell not giving up now, these people need help!"

 

Dean winced at his words, regret on his face. "I know how much you want to help, but Sam, those trials are messing with you, bad. You can barely stand some days and you look like death, you'll be easy prey out there!" Dean argued

 

Sam glared, his mouth going tight. "Dean, you can't tell me what to do. I'm not six anymore, I can handle myself. I'll be fine," he growled.

 

Dean shook his head and grabbed both of Sam's arms, staring right into his eyes. "Sam, you are my brother and my first priority, now and always, is to protect you. I am not putting your life on the line to save a bunch of teenage werewolves!"

 

"But you're willing to risk yours? Might want to check your logic before you start arguing about it, Dean," his eyes were dark.

 

"Listen to me! Cas will stay and protect you, nothing is going to happen to me, and I can finish this with a clear head knowing my brother is safe! Sam, please. I am begging you to run, take the car and run," Dean said, gripping his brother's arms tighter.

 

Sam stared him straight in the eyes for a few long moments before shrugging out of Dean's grip and taking a step back. "You are my brother, Dean. We fight side by side, now and always. I am not letting you go into this alone, and I am not leaving these kids on their own."

 

He gave Dean one last look and then walked back up the driveway and into the house, door slamming shut behind him.

 

Dean stood out in the open alone, a cold autumn wind chilling him to the bone, the impending promise of death hanging in the air.

 

-§-

 

They reached the clearing a little before eight, the moon fully raised and glowing crescent shaped in the sky, like a claw. Dark clouds approached from the east, threatening a storm, the wolves could smell it in the air.

 

Everyone knew their positions; all that was left to do was link together and lead the alphas to them. Stiles felt his hands shake as he crammed them into his hoodie pocket; the air turning chilly as a breeze blew through the clearing, leaves swirling around them.

 

Approaching footsteps caught Stiles' attention, the pack growling in alert behind him as a two figures materialized from the shadows.

 

Aiden and Ethan.

 

Everyone relaxed slightly, some eyes still glowing gold in the darkness.

 

The alpha twins approached slowly, bare chested and muscles rippling as they moved, radiating power from their very essence. Danny smiled from his place behind Stiles, Ethan's lips twitched in response.

 

"Thanks for coming," Stiles said.

 

The twins nodded. "We figured this is the least we can do, but Deucalion will have control of us on the battlefield, we will not be able to help you again,” Aiden replied.

 

Stiles nodded. "Understandable. Do you know where they are?"

 

"Yes, they aren't far from here. It won't take long to lead them here, so you'll have to work fast," Ethan replied.

 

"And my dad? Scott's mom? Allison’s dad?"

 

"All three of them are okay, they haven't been fatally wounded," Aiden said. "We have to go, they are going to start wondering where we went."

 

“One last question, why the sudden change of heart?” Stiles asked.

 

Ethan and Aiden stilled, sharing a glance before Ethan replied. “Just, figured out what our priorities are,” his eyes flickered to Danny.

 

Aiden’s stayed on Ethan.

 

Stiles crossed his arms, he understood. "Go, howl when you’re close."

 

They both nodded and loped off into the trees.

 

 

 -§-

 

Derek could feel the tension in the air, curling around his lungs and squeezing as he stared into the dark trees, waiting.

 

He wanted this done.

 

Stiles was a livewire, bouncing on his toes in apprehension, aluminum bat swinging in his hands, a lot more skilled than before. It was almost like a second limb, movements fluid and easy. He'd definitely been practicing.

 

The others remained together, pacing around each other, hands flexing and relaxing, shoulders rolling, eyes trained on the trees. They were growing impatient.

 

Finally, a howl broke through the trees.

 

The ring was no doubt of an alpha, two in fact, joined together in perfect harmony, twins no doubt.

 

They were on their way.

 

The first flash of red eyes in the trees has Derek snarling and his fangs elongating in his mouth, claws slipping out.

 

A rumbling laugh sounded in the trees.

 

"Oh Derek, this is simply precious. Back and kicking no more than twenty-four hours and you are already chomping at the bit for round two? I'm flattered, really I am."

 

Deucalion materialized from the trees, walking stick tapping the ground out in front of him as he made his way across the leaf covered ground, each step dripping with confidence. Ennis appeared behind him, already half shifted, fangs revealed in a bloodthirsty smile.

 

The twins appeared a moment later, apart but that was sure to change. They looked more hesitant than the others but their eyes glowed all the same, fangs lengthening in their mouths.

 

They were right when they said Deucalion would have control.

 

"Honestly Derek, I'd hoped you'd run. You seem like too smart a boy to go down this road a second time."

 

Derek growled, shoulders tense. "Well, I never did live up to anyone's expectation. So no running, no hiding, I want this over with."

 

Deucalion laughed again, coming to a halt not ten feet away. "Well, aren't we cocky? Tell me Derek, are you really willing to die for a second time?"

 

Derek smiled darkly. "I'm fine either way, but if I do go out, I'm dragging your ass down with me."

 

Deucalion frowned at that, red eyes glowing behind his sunglasses. "Oh, dear boy. I am afraid I can't let you do that. So, shall I go for the heart again or just rip your head clean off and make sure no creature from heaven or hell can ever bring you back?"

 

Derek reeled backwards with a snarl as Deucalion lunged, shifting mid air, paws pressing Derek into the dirt as he landed, his teeth snapping dangerously close to his head.

 

Derek roared, arm thrashing out to block the alpha's teeth, trying to desperately shove him backwards, but he was too strong.

 

That's when a scream broke through the air and a bat collided with Deucalion's head, knocking him right off of Derek.

 

Stiles stood over him, chest heaving and teeth grit, bat aimed for another swing as Deucalion picked himself up off the ground, his eyes wild with fire.

 

"That's right asshole, it's me."

 

Deucalion snarled, lips pulled back to reveal his sharp teeth as he stalked around Stiles, sizing him up. Finally he snapped his teeth and lunged but Stiles was too quick, whirling out of the way and landing another solid hit to the alpha's jaw, blood splattering the ground as he smiled.

 

"Oh, did I forget to mention? I’ve been practising,” he snarled, "Going to be a bit harder to kill me, afraid to say."

 

Derek slowly rose to his feet, eyes trained on Deucalion.

 

Deucalion stood still and stared at him, growling, and then he jerked his head forward. In one fluid motion Ennis shifted, snarling as he ran to Deucalion's side, eyes and teeth flashing in the moonlight. The alpha's snarled together, Ennis and the twins circling around the group as Deucalion walked right up the center, towards Stiles.

 

Derek stopped him half way, launching himself right at him.

 

Danny, Isaac and Lydia went straight for the twins while Sam, Dean and Boyd went for the Ennis, snarls and screams alike ringing through the night. Scott raced to Stiles' side.

 

Derek and Deucalion rolled, constantly fighting to top the other as teeth snapped and claws ripped skin, howls of pain and snarls of anger the only sounds breaking through as they tangled deeper in their cycle of inflictor and inflicted.

 

Stiles and Scott broke in whenever they could, trying to keep Deucalion at bay long enough for Derek to recover and make his next move. It was working until howl ripped through the clearing, loud and mournful.

 

Derek's head whipped around just in time for him to see Ennis, his claws retracting from Boyd's chest, just as the boy fell to the ground, his heart beat stuttering for a few beats then going silent, eyes locking with Derek's just before the light died out. Isaac's cry of pain gutting Derek to the core, hurting more than any flesh wound.

 

A shot of cold ran through Derek and he realized it was Boyd leaving them, his soul moving on.

 

They all felt it.

 

He wanted to scream, to howl and rip things apart with his teeth he was so angry, so angry that someone like Boyd paid the price for something he should have ended a year ago.

 

Deucalion was smiling at him from above, not even taking this opportune moment to kill Derek because he wanted him to see his pack mate fall, wanted to see the broken look on his face when he realized he'd failed. But what he stared back into was a face of absolute rage.

 

Derek shifted.

 

He honestly didn't know he could as a beta, but his family had always had strong ties to their wolf side, had always been powerful enough as alphas for the full shift, betas were rare but not impossible.

 

But to Derek, this felt like the most natural thing in the world, slipping into a skin he never forgot.

 

After months of missing this, feeling the hollowness in his chest, he was able to rise up on four paws and snarl for real, eyes burning beneath a hood of black fur.

 

The look on Deucalion's face was one Derek would never forget, shock and confusion and _fear_. Maybe it was the bond, or maybe it was just him, but Derek has never felt so powerful in his whole life, not even when he was an alpha.

 

He was going to win.

 

Deucalion snarled, claws ripping at the earth as he raced forward, but this time Derek was ready.

 

He caught Stiles and Scott gaping at him out of the corner of his eye right before he collided with Deucalion, teeth going right for his throat. Deucalion yanked back at the last second, growling in pain when Derek traded for his shoulder, sinking his teeth into the soft flesh, blood pouring into his mouth, but he knew it would take a lot more than this to take him out.

 

For good.

 

-§-

 

Dean, to be honest, was sweating bullets as he faced off against the alpha.

 

Out of past experience against monsters as powerful as this, someone usually ended up dead. Dean just hoped Boyd would be its final victim.

 

Castiel was waiting back at the house, awaiting Dean's prayer. One word and he and Sam were out of there, a thousands mile away on a beach in the sun. Sam would hate him for it, but Dean couldn’t lose his brother. He would fight as long as he could, but if it came down to Sam or the wolves, it was obvious which one he would chose.

 

Sam was confident in his movements, practically toying with Ennis as he danced around him, slashing out with his knife or delivering solid punches when he got the opportunity.

 

He didn’t look weak and sick, he looked strong.

 

Ennis was getting pissed and was wrong to think things would be easier now that he was against a pair of hunters. He clearly hadn’t met the Winchesters.

 

Dean pulled out his gun.

 

It would be just like any other kill, one wolfsbane bullet to the head and he was done for.

 

He took his aim.

 

-§-

 

Stiles felt Boyd's death like emptiness in his chest, a chunk someone carved out and never put back. But he didn't have time to dwell on it, not matter how much it hurt. He had other friends on the line.

 

The fight between Deucalion and Derek was growing increasingly nastier, the two wolves fighting harder, biting and ripping at any chance they got. It reminded Stiles too much of their first fight, almost like he was back in that moment.

 

He shook himself and focused back on the fight, bat clenched and waiting for his next opening when Scott gripped his shoulder and turned him around, pointing to where Isaac and Lydia grappled with the twins. Danny was on the ground, out cold and blood running down his temple. He’d taken a nasty blow to the head trying to help Ethan get control.

 

Aiden had put an end to that.

 

"Help them! If Isaac kills one of them he'll be an alpha!" Scott growled, eyes burning gold. "I'll stay with Derek!"

 

Stiles didn't want to leave, didn't want to let Derek out of his sight, but Scott was right. Isaac was running on pure rage right now and if he killed one of the twins, he would regret it forever.

 

So he gripped Scott's shoulder and stared into his eyes for a moment, a reassurance, before taking off.

 

Isaac was just about to tackle Aiden again when Stiles came in and swung his bat into the side of his head.

 

Lydia grabbed Isaac before he could attack again, catching onto Stiles' intentions, and held him there. He snarled and fought against her, eyes burning with rage, Boyd's body not five feet away, his blood staining the earth.

 

"Isaac! If you kill him you'll be an alpha! Do you really want that?" Stiles screamed, taking the few seconds Aiden was down to talk some sense into the beta, Ethan seemed to be restraining himself, casting glances at Danny’s unconscious form.

 

Isaac stilled a bit but continued growling, his whole body quivering with rage. Lydia wrapped her arms around his waist and pulled his back flush against her chest, locking him in her grip.

 

"Isaac! Please! Listen to him!" she begged.

 

Stiles glanced back at Aiden, who was slowly picking himself up off the ground, and then to Isaac. The beta was still now, eyes staring right at Stiles.

 

"If you don't finish him right now, I will," Isaac snarled through grit teeth, "Alpha or not."

 

Stiles stared at him for a few more seconds before meeting Lydia's eyes, nodding for her to release Isaac and join him at his side. Together, they went to Aiden, Stiles foot shoving him back down onto the grass as Lydia unsheathed her dagger.

 

Aiden thrashed and snarled, so gone under Deucalion’s influence he didn’t even seem to recognize them. Just followed the instinct to kill.

 

“No wait, don’t! Please!” Ethan shouted, racing to his brother’s side.

 

Stiles hesitated, Lydia’s dagger poised and ready to strike.

 

“Please! We will leave and never come back, just let us go! Let me get my brother away from here and get some sense into his head,” Ethan panted, eyes flaring as Deucalion let out a long roar.

 

Stiles could see how hard he was fighting.

 

“Go, far, I don’t want to see either of you until this is long over, and then some,” he said and Ethan nodded, grateful, grabbing Aiden hard by the arm and dragging him off the battlefield and into the trees.

 

Isaac snarled after them but didn’t chase them, Lydia’s hand wrapped firmly around his bicep.

 

A second later a shot rang out and a body slumped to the ground.

 

 

Sam and Dean stood over his body, chests heaving, faces splattered with blood and dirt.

 

Lydia went to Danny, pressing her fingers against his pulse point as Stiles and Dean exchanged looks. Dean looked to where the sounds of battle still raged and Stiles nodded, all of them coming together as they made their way to where Deucalion and Derek remained locked in a fight to the death.

 

-§-

 

Derek was growing tired, his muscles screaming in protest with every movement he made, each and every tug of skin or twisting of a limb set what felt like hundreds of cuts and gashes on fire. He hurt everywhere but he didn't stop. He knew Deucalion was growing tired too, could tell by his slower movements and weaker attacks.

 

Either way, one of them was giving up soon; they couldn't go on like this for much longer.

 

Scott joined the fight when Deucalion landed a particularly harsh blow to Derek's back leg, snapping the bone clean in half with a screech of pain.

 

Derek watched from the ground, chest heaving as he waited for his leg to heal, as Scott kept Deucalion distracted, using quick and evasive movements to lands blows and dodge out of the way before he got hit, using his stamina against Deucalion's worn down body.

 

When a scream and a shot rang out Derek knew Ennis was dead, could see it in the way Deucalion faltered, his breath knocked out of him in a choked howl, feeling the essence of his pack mate ripped from inside of him, along with their power.

 

He was weaker now, he was much more vulnerable.

 

Derek took the opening.

 

He pinned Deucalion to the group and ripped at his chest with his claws as his teeth fought for a shot at the alpha's throat, he could feel his bloodlust raging through him like a storm.

 

Scott knocked him off before he could get the chance.

 

Derek snarled and stared at Scott in confusion, eyes flickering from Deucalion's heaving form and back.

 

Scott put out his hand.

 

 

He walked over to him.

 

"Shift back," he ordered, his tone ringing with authority.

 

Deucalion glared at him, letting out a snarl of outrage and refusal.

 

Scott winced but didn't budge. He remained still, eyes flaring gold.

 

"I said shift back."

 

His voice carried so much power Derek gasped as he felt himself shift back, the night air bathing his bare skin in shocking cold.

 

Deucalion shifted, lay human and naked below Scott, vulnerable as ever and staring up with so much rage Derek was almost surprised Scott didn't burst into flames.

 

"Get up," Scott barked, watching as Deucalion scrambled to his feet.

 

Derek was aware that everyone else had come forward, staring at Scott in shock, Stiles at the front of the group, his eyes wide.

 

"Submit to me," Scott snarled.

 

Deucalion looked at him, eyes burning with cold fire. "Never."

 

"Submit!" Scott roared and Derek felt that one, his knees almost buckling under the power. But Scott wasn't his alpha, he didn't submit to anyone.

 

Deucalion buckled and he bared his neck to the side, a cold laugh escaping him. "I knew there was something special about you, Scott. I knew you held power, a true alpha, but I can also call your bluff. You aren't going to kill me."

 

Scott growled. "You’re right. I won't kill you. But I am going to tell you what you are going to do right now," he stepped closer and took Deucalion's chin in his hand, claws pressing at the alpha's skin. "You will take us the our parents, you will release them, you will leave this town and you will never, ever come back here again or you can be sure that I will be back to end you, forever. I don’t care what it will do to the color of my eyes."

 

Deucalion shrank farther and farther away with everyone of Scott's orders, his back pressed against the ground and neck bared by the time Scott was finished, his eyes still cold but submissive.

 

He'd given up. He knew he was beaten.

 

"Yes…alpha."

 

That's when everyone noticed Scott's eyes were burning bright red.

 

-§-

 

Stiles had never been so happy to see his father in his life.

 

The alphas had stashed them in a root cellar in the woods off the old highway, huddled together in the middle of the cellar with their hands and feet bound together in so many knots that it took a while for the wolves to slice through them all.

 

They were a little disoriented but unharmed, weary laughs and tired smiles at the sight of the children as they flung their arms around their necks.

 

Chris waited silently as he was untied, watching Melissa and the sheriff hug their kids.

 

Isaac tapped his shoulder then and waggled car keys in front of his face, Lydia's hand entwined with his. "Chariot awaits, destination Beacon Hills General."

 

Chris smiled then and clapped Isaac on the back, following them out as they drove him and Danny to the hospital.

 

Scott and Stiles lead their parents out, Sam and Dean behind with Deucalion restrained between them, in wolf form again.

 

Derek walked over to Stiles' side, entwining their fingers after Stiles loaded his dad and Melissa into the car. Stiles turned around and buried his face in Derek’s neck, letting out a deep breath of relief.

 

"Thanks for not getting killed, sourwolf."

 

Derek snorted and grazed his lips across Stiles’ cheek, bumping their noses together before pulling away and looked to Scott.

 

"I'm going to take him to the edge of town, make sure he leaves," Scott said as they approached, arms crossed over his chest.

 

"By yourself? Are you sure?" Stiles asked, glancing nervously at Deucalion.

 

The alpha looked pitiful, chains around neck and paws, between the two hunters. But Stiles knew he was still very powerful.

 

"Yes, I'm an alpha now, it's my job. I'll be back before sunset, I promise," he said, dragging Stiles into a hug.

 

Stiles held him tightly before pulling away and looking him in the eyes. "I'm proud of you, yah know."

 

Scott grinned, crookedly and so familiarly that Stiles couldn't help but smile back. "Yeah, same here."

 

Stiles clapped him on the shoulder and then Scott turned away, facing Sam and Dean.

 

"You can release him now, I'll take it from here," he said.

 

The brothers looked at each and then took the chains off of Deucalion, all except for the one around his neck. They stepped back as Scott stepped forward, eyes bleeding red.

 

"Let's go," he growled.

 

Deucalion whined and bowed under him, watching as Scott shifted.

 

It looked easy as breathing for him, the boy, no, man, fluidly changing into a silver wolf.

 

Stiles smiled, watched as Scott got used to his new from before taking Deucalion's chain in his mouth and tugging, the alpha following behind him, tail between his legs as they vanished into the trees.

 

Stiles stared after them until Dean cleared his throat and he looked at him.

 

"I think its time for Sam and I to make our great departure," he said.

 

Stiles nodded, walking forward and taking Dean's hand in his, squeezing tightly as he shook it. "Thank you both for your help. We wouldn't have won without you; you saved all of our lives. We owe you, for like, ever," he said.

 

Sam laughed, shaking Stiles' hand. "Well, you have our number now. If you ever need us, don't hesitate to call."

 

"Yeah and angel radio if that doesn't work," Dean teased.

 

Stiles laughed, pulling Dean in for a quick hug. "Tell Cas I said goodbye."

 

"Will do," Dean said. He turned to Derek.

 

“Derek.”

 

“Dean.”

 

They shook hands.

 

Sam cleared his throat and shouldered his bag, the two brothers turning making their way to the Impala, slipping inside and starting it up with a deep, satisfying growl.

 

They both waved one last time before pulling forward and driving down the long stretch of highway, swallowed by the trees moments later and the rumble of the Impala lost in the rush of the autumn breeze.

 

-§-

 

They buried Boyd where they created Erica's memorial, the two lovers reunited at last.

 

They're deaths still stung freshly in everyone but they knew they were together again and had a new pack that they would be safe with.

 

Allison woke up from her coma, still pretty banged up but on her way to recovery, demanding details the second she was lucid enough.

 

Scott returned like he promised, emerging through the trees in the Stilinski backyard in powerful strides before shifting on the porch and reuniting with his pack. He and Stiles hugged it out again right there, despite Scott’s current state of nakedness, and maybe even cried a little.

 

Isaac and Lydia returned from the hospital with a newly patched up Danny, nasty looking stitches in his hairline, but he waved it off with a smile after waggling a bottle of painkillers around with a laugh.

 

Chris showed up later that night, a smiling Allison in a wheelchair, looking exhausted but the light burning in her eyes again. The second the two saw each other, Allison gripped Scott's face and pulled him into a fierce kiss, leaning her forehead against each other after they pulled away with a small laugh, both their cheeks going red as the pack cat called teasingly.

 

Everyone signed her cast with a bright pink sharpie.

 

After Stiles hugged his dad about twenty more times they all settled into the living room for a much deserved rest and pack bonding, Lydia slipping in the ever famous _The Notebook_ and curling up beside Isaac as Scott sat on the floor between Allison's knees and Danny on the loveseat.

 

Stiles and his dad dragged in the extra couch from the study, which Melissa and Chris settled down on next to the sheriff in his armchair.

 

Stiles and Derek, freshly showered and clothed, curled up on the sofa in the middle of the room, Stiles' head pillowed in Derek's lap as he lazily traced patterns on Derek's skin with his finger, Derek's fingers gently stroking his hair.

 

Everyone sat in comfortable silence, enjoying the feel of the pack surrounding them, finally safe after months on their feet. Stiles soaked it in, the weight on his chest lifted with the easy graze of Derek’s fingers across his heart and the contented sigh of his family.

 

They would be okay.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you guys so much for sticking with me through this! I've gotten so many sweet compliments and encouragement and that is amazing to have! I struggled a lot with this fic but I am so glad its done! I hope you guys enjoy it as much as I did!
> 
> *sidenote* because this chapter was taking so long only about half was very heavily edited, so any mistakes after were mine because my beta and I just kind of in detail glossed over it.

**Author's Note:**

> I am going to try not to make you guys wait to long for the next two chapters but I am going to be very busy until June 14th (my last day of school) so you probably won't get chapter 3 until after that but I am hoping I can get chapter 2 written, edited, and posted before then.


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